


A Quiet Business

by Greekgeekable



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Aunt Peggy Carter, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Captasha - Freeform, F/M, Minor Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Natasha Romanov Feels, POV Natasha Romanov, Time Travel Fix-It, capwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-09-28 02:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greekgeekable/pseuds/Greekgeekable
Summary: ‘ I feel — no , no, I’m sure I’ve known you... for a very long time. And I see the way  you look at me, Nat,’ Steve said.A frisson of anticipation erupted in her gut.‘ I don’t look at you any differently from how a woman looks at a man,’ Natasha answered.He shook his head slowly, almost mournful.‘We both know that’s not true , you look at me like you’ve lost everything ... and I just want to know how I can make that up to you ?’A soul for a soul, said Clint echoing the conditions made on Vormir.A soul for a soul, Steve thought as he made his trip through the Quantum Portal to return the stones. A wistful need to dare or hope she could just appear at his side again.While he went left: to get a life — with Peggy in 1945.Natasha went right : and got a life too — well, restarted the old one.She shouldn’t be here. She should be dead and what’s more, who told her to fall into step with Steven. G . Rogers again. Hadn’t being on the run with Steve and Sam been enough?





	1. December 2001

**Chapter One**  
  
December 2001, 

**Brooklyn, New York**

**Natasha**

Natasha brought the frothy composition of her peanut butter latte to her lips before the tell - tell ring of her cellphone vibrated, demanding her attention. With a simple sigh, she carefully placed her mug back on the saucer, and brought the phone to her ear. The cafe was relatively packed, a collection of bobble hats, scarves and gloves rested on the tables filling the room.

‘Hey Mom, I could be wrong, but I feel like you’re about to embark on the cumbersome argument that I need to come home instead of staying out late again.’

She heard the sigh on the other side of the phone, deeper and gruffer.  
‘Jean’s not on the phone right now, because she feels she has had as much of a response from you when she uses her telepathy, Red.’

A smile quirked the corner of her lip at the sound of ‘Howllett, please tell me you didn’t snatch the phone up from her, after her third round of pacing the room?’

Natasha took the time to sip some of her latte, she'd tucked herself in the corner of the coffee shop, the perfect view of the white speckled road. She watched several snowflakes make their majestic decent to the ground— and was absently reminded of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Frost at Midnight.

‘It was either me or Summers, look Red, I’ll cut to the chase, none of that how are you holding up bull-' Natasha was sure Mom or Professor had pinned him with a gimlet stare, ‘—basically, Christmas is coming up, Anne- Marie and Bobby are wanting to know when their best friend's coming back?’

  
Natasha had made some brilliant head way concerning her latte, eyes locked on the creamy expanse of what was left of her beverage.

‘Tell those two losers to hold it, I didn’t just pack up my bags and leave. I didn’t storm out the mansion because Professor X wouldn’t give me money to buy an Aston Martin (though tell him, if he doesn’t mind too much listening in on my thoughts right now , that wouldn’t be so bad ).’ She heard a faint distinctive laugh.

‘Red.’ She welcomed Howlett’s usual grow.

It was funny for a time Howlett found it hard settling on a nickname for herself as he had for Mom. The problem being quite clear (besides his un- adulterous love for her): they were both red heads.

Natasha’s coy nature dropped as well as an octave: ‘He’s out there, I can feel it. He’s cracked, afraid in a new foreign world and worst of all, alone.’

‘I get that, but Hydra’s suspicious behaviour only started two months ago, and you still haven’t found him. How can you be sure you’ll find him?’

It was a clear question of interest— innocent and relevant. Natasha dashed a handful of bills on the table in the form of a tip and drew her coat around her in the form of a perfect shield against the brittle winter air.

‘Because I broke him, James. Hydra thought their little nursery rhythm would keep him at bay, that their distraction of Alexander Pierce’s once youthful appearance could and would sway him. But I know the truth, I’ve seen his eyes.’

The crisp winters air threw a spectacular gust at her. ‘And now that you’ve broken him, you think he’s just going to respond like some docile puppy. Come on Red. You know persuading him could take up to a month or two if your hard ass — argh Jean.' She must have thrown a pillow, or maybe something harder at him. A soft peal of laughter left Natasha’s lips.

As a child, Jean had found it was one of the most interactive responses brought out in Natasha— it had been an accident on Jean’s part, Kurt had been goofing around with his teleporting and instead of reminding him to behave Jean had chucked a pillow at him. Half startled and shocked a soaring expletive had left the teenager’s mouth. Jean’s candid and innocent: 'Watch it, language.' Had done the trick.

A sad smile graced her lips as she began heading down the street.

She missed her old family, the indestructible Tony Stark who would be in seven short years the one and only Iron Man: arrogant, sagacious, her dorky nerd. The Mighty Thor Oddinson, a soon to be house known name. God of thunder, prince of Asgard, a godly expatriate she’d gladly welcome back into her heart, and teach in secret the art of cooking pancakes. Then there was Bruce Banner, the incredible Hulk, she’d had a lot of once’s with that guy, like for instance: she’d once thought she’d been afraid of the Hulk, once in love with Bruce, and once she’d thought she'd be enough to tether him to earth. She chuckled, silly girl.

It was hard now to dictate her old mantra of: love is for children, and like children it’s simply a game. Not when she accounted the two men she’d die for— Clinton ‘Clint’ Francis Barton, had once resurrected her soul in Budapest, and in return she had owed him some kind of unfathomable debt; she’d been paying back in the form of friendship. In the end she’d physically returned the favor. She’d seen Clint a couple of times now, having snuck out to watch him from afar while he struggled to catch what his teacher had to say with his one perfect ear and another time seated in the bleachers as he hit bullseye with an arrow notched in his bow.  
  
‘He’s a killer,’ said Logan cutting through her reverie, if she’d been fresh into the Red Room, she might have faltered. ‘You said so yourself, without reading through his file. Are you sure you can bring him back from the darkness. It took me months; Jeannie and the professor worked their tails off to get me to where I am. And even sometimes, your quick reflexes are a better form of restraint than their mystic minds.’ With a long puff of air, she whispered: ‘I’ll be with him till the end of the line.’

  
She heard someone quack at the other end of the line, sure an image erected themselves from the deep recesses of her mind: once blond hair turned dirty brown with a full scruff beard to match, wearing a torn and worn stealth suit; he’d looked his best on the run. And selfishly, he’d been all hers. Natasha hadn’t needed to share him to much with Sam, Wanda or Vision. And the weight of his star- like eyes, she found were, if from what she remembered, usually on her.

‘Stay out of my thoughts,’ she snarled, bumping and swiftly apologising to the man passing her.

Steve. Her Steve. Not Captain America known to the world. Or Aka. Steven Rogers to the Army. The man out of time, Capsice – to Tony. Cap -to Scott Lang or Punk – to Bucky: had taught her to hope and believe again. Had spent stupid hours she could have used to tell him how he made her feel. Living with her in the compound, watching an up to date movie, learning about MP3’s, gigabytes, and holding onto the past.

‘I knew him before my various visits to S.H.I.E.L.D .’ Natasha ducked into an alleyway off main street. ‘When he was “prepodavate” ( the student) and I was “Belyy golub” ( the teacher) and even his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He fought back, the kid from Brooklyn was always fighting. The Red Room always underestimated the raging beat of a Brooklyn born heart. You have to admire the American soul.’ She relaxed against the wall a bit more, surer than ever before, Logan, Mom, Dad and Professor X were listening in.

  
‘Bucky,’ a name she hadn’t ever really uttered, he’d been James to her. Sergeant Barnes, not the childhood moniker he’d asked the world to call him by and in return, she, the world spat in his face and dubbed him: Winter Solider. ‘was my friend.’ How sure she was of that being a lie, even she didn’t know.

‘He deserves respect and to have been freed from that confinement.'

  
‘And you’re doing this … for you, yes?’ a new voice had picked up the phone. Natasha cast her gaze out to the busy street.

‘Mom,’ She moaned. ‘I’ve seen his soul, how can I not help him, the same way you sort me out.’

‘ Tasha, I’m only ... I’m worried about you of course . Not because you can’t handle it . You’re an X - Men and all mine. But you are putting yourself out there to be attacked. We’ve rightly kept you hidden under your own advice . And now you willingly risk your life for this man. ‘ Jean continued, ‘ from what you’ve shown me . You care deeply for this man? Though, are not in love with him. What makes him so special?’

Natasha’s ears pricked up at the torrent of incoming sound . She slowed down her steps, eyes narrowing and cutting to every corner around her. For the tell tell human it was too early an alert , nothing to be noted amiss. But years of training in the Red Room made her whisper briskly: ‘ Mom, locate me okay. I’m blinded by the amount of people .’

Mom took in a sharp intake of breath. The line was briefly silent a while before she said in a deep monotone: ‘ Target has turned down Main Street . Not dressed in his usual garb . Resisting hold. May have crippled a number of my men! Where the fuck are the Task Force when you need —‘

A peal of police sirens rung in her ear. A commotion seemed to erupt into life, people began scattering out of the way, making moves to narrowly avoid the red-haired teenager or push her out of the way. Her gaze remained trained on the noise and chaos. That was until a large hand, bigger, cooler reflectively curled around her own.

Natasha’s gaze snapped up to find and meet a pair of Brooklyn made blueish-grey eyes, a pair like those hadn’t last been made since 1917.

Her mouth moved around something she felt intelligible enough to say, before he yanked her, and almost dragged her across the snow-covered road.

She snapped to life when he turned back to her quickly with desperate eyes: It was him.

A burst of relief and excitement was quickly replaced by outrage. ‘Bastard,’ she hissed.

And suddenly she understood what Steve might have been fighting for on the Hellicarer thirteen years from now — Bucky flashed her a smile: a shadow perhaps of Sergeant Bucky Barnes, Steve’s best friend, a single fraction of the American spirit.

It was stupid and reckless, but she let him lead the way.

  
He pulled her down a maze of alleyways, ways he was clearly reminded of.  
He seemed to mumble under his breath, new stories he wanted to tell her, but died on his breath when they turned sharply down another corner.

‘How’d you know I’d be here in Brooklyn.’

Natasha wanted to point out Hydra from the sounds of it had found him too, but didn’t want to lead him down the wrong stream of thought.

‘Your lucky I’ve let you drag me along; a normal girl would’ve screamed by now.’

‘You looked like someone from my past, future… I’ve seen your face…’

Natasha knew joking around with a cranium abused mind was not advised, but she missed his silver tongue; Steve had been blessed with and she'd witnessed briefly while in the Red Room.

  
So, she was selfish, she wanted to see the man that was once before.

It was premature to say they’d lost them, Hydra, that was. But Brooklyn however new and updated was Bucky’s haunts. She rested against the brick wall of a box like street, eyes on the man that was not all Bucky and Winter Solider.

  
‘You better chose something and be decisive about it.’ She cut back at him, leaning off the wall.

“You’re pushing Natasha. Any reason why you’re doing that.” She heard her mom’s voice echo in her thoughts.

‘My head, it’s fuzzy.’ He clutched his head rather urgently. ‘we always meet on a beach. You’re wearing that thin material. And you always giggle when you look at me.’

Much like Steve, Bucky couldn’t fathom the evolution of bathing suits. She didn’t laugh now. She kept her eyes trained on him.

He was correct: he was unstable.

‘Who are you!’ He threw at her.

And yet she did not answer. She propelled herself off the wall, bringing her balled fists to a fighting position.  
  
“He needs a jog to his memory is all,” she told mom.

‘You drug me down the street, hand in mine and brought me along, without knowing my name. Why does it matter now?’

‘I ... I don’t know.’ And then he lunged at her. The hours of intense ballet lessons were almost immeditately initiated. Mom and Dad, had thought bringing a positive bird’s eye view to the art could replace the hatred the Red Room had brought in her. But instead of an elongated kick. Natasha rushed for Bucky’s middle.

He was the Winter Solider, programmed to learn her fighting style in a way, F.R.I.D.A.Y so artificially excelled in.

Bucky hit a bed of snow and was surprised to find the teenager pinning him with her thighs. She raised her fist and was swiftly flung off him. They both scrambled to their feet, using the cushion of snow as a needed reprieve.

Natasha countered all his hard-hitting blows with the defence of her right forearm. she felt that she should scramble for a dustbin lid, and maybe mirror something from his past - something similar to Steve. She turned away from him and nearly climbed up the wall, to spin kick him — when he caught a hold of her graceful form. This was the Black Widow, a product the Red Room had once built upon. A creature he'd taught and moulded in another lifetime. 

Natasha’s back contacted the wall, the pain was immediate to broker a deal with her spin and onwards. She bowed her head against the bed of snow, her salvation in a manner like prayer.

‘Damnit Buck, I’m trying to help you,’ she shot at him, the build-up of a raging bull appeared to stop and stare at her curiously.

“Natasha! Nat! Are you okay? He threw you against the wall like a rag-doll why aren’t you doing anything. Fight him!”Dad's voice exploded in her mind.

“I’m sorry Zeppelin, I can’t leave you out there with no back-up. Like it or not, I have you located and targeted. We’re coming.” She heard Mom ringing in her ear.

“I don’t need back-up, I’m getting through to him!”

Natasha pushed herself against the wall breathing hard and fast a similar fashion to her attacks. Different from her regular fighting style, anything the Red Room or the X-Men had taught her. It was direct, stupid and a downright American blow out.

” He’s beating your ass Natalia, you're limping on one leg for Christ sake. And for some god forsaken reason, are decided against using your powers.”

Bucky’s eyes stayed heavily fixed on her, his eyes skimmed her bulled up fists, her defensive pose and defiant green eyes.

‘Look kind of like a punk I know… knew.’

‘Good to know.’

Suddenly Natasha straightened up.

‘I don’t want to fight you.’

‘You’re not fighting correctly.’

‘There is no correct way, Bucky.’ She hissed, rotating her shoulder gingerly.

‘Who are you? I feel ... I know, I’m sure that I know you.’ Bucky hissed, the monster, the Winter Solider might have flung her, or driven a fist into her. Bucky, Steve’s best friend however, stared at her desperately.

She’d had a choice: to grow with a teenage Clint, bring him to the mansion with food and warmth. But instead found stormy blue eyes on her— Bucky, she sighed. Yes, she released him from his mental prison, but that was the first lock. This man, unfortunately, would need him — his best friend , who wouldn’t wake till eleven years into their future. And who with all this power in their hands, could leave Bucky simply how he was before.

He’d created some space between the two of them, that she either wisely or not so, closed in on him.

‘Do you know your eyes have a bit of blue in them?’ Bucky noted boring into her. She knew. She hadn’t always but after she’d woken up, after Steve had dropped the stone back to it's resting place. She cut her gaze away from him. She could not however offer up a girlish flush.

‘Why did you grab my hand, Bucky?’

He twitched, she saw his weariness transform momentarily into hope again.  
‘You knew my name,’ he gruffed.

She nodded.

‘Your name is James Buchanan Barnes — Buchanan like in F. Scott. Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, secretly your best friend: Steven Grant Rogers’ favourite novel, though it’s recorded being: Call of the Wild by Jack London. When you got sick, Sarah, Steve’s ...’ She trailed off fascinated as he hesitantly said; ‘Mom, was a nurse. The punk made it a habit of getting into fights like some fucking knight on the round table defending a dames honour or doing what’s right.’ And then with beautiful desperate eyes— ‘What happened to Stevie? I thought you’d bring him?’

‘What do you mean?’ Natasha asked vaguely alarmed and sure Mom was too, she could feel a jolt in her skull again.

‘We usually meet on a beach or sometimes outside Steve’s apartment. The punk never comes out — but you take me to him. You showed me how once I saved him from drowning— but didn’t skimp on the fact I’m the one who happened to beat the shit out of him. Or once when — ‘he blinked to a stop to find Natasha’s finger pressed to his mouth.

‘My name is Natalia Romanoff - Grey -Summers. I thought you should know , since my parents are coming. And part of my family too, I hope you make a good impression Mr. Barnes.’

‘Who said I trust you,’ he whispered offering something like a shit eating grin.

‘Not me?’ She returned as a gust of wind blew her hair into her face. Her mom and dad, she sensed emerging from the X - Wing.


	2. Westchester, New York

**Chapter Two**

**December 2001**

**Westchester, New York**

** Natasha**

Ordinarily Natasha wouldn’t be brazened enough to bring a boy upstairs to her room— but on this account an old fossil tucked on the large window ledge knees drawn to his chest, was surely an exception made.

Towel drying her hair, leaning against the adjacent door frame, the echo of a man similarly fashioned in the late 1910’s came to mind. Of course, they’d been on the run, harried and rushed but the space in time given for the, and Natasha to ask : "If it came down to you and me, and it was the other way around…" had felt like an eternity.

She wasn’t a big fan of forever, but god, it would have been nicer on the universe to hold on to more moments like that… no, to have created a few more with him.

She felt the brush of heavy storm clouds rest on her. Her eyes flicked to attention, resting just above Bucky’s questioning brows.

‘Are you sure it’s all right for me to sleep here. Like the Professor and the guy with the claws suggested there are loads of rooms here— it is a mansion after all.’ Bucky recalled, still sounding taken aback by the fact he was in an actual mansion. Funny for some reason, she’d assumed that Steve and Bucky came in a pair, that they had near the start of their friendship as they had presumably ended it (she could never be too sure of course, dying, jumping off a cliff sacrificing your whole personhood and everything, left a lot of gaps in the knowledge she knew.) Anyway, she’d just assumed that when Steve had visited Howard, Bucky as always had been at his side.

Natasha shook her head at him, offering the ghost of a smirk on her lips as she approached. Bucky’s broad shoulders obscured a measure of her large panelled window that opened up the luminous expanse of the full moon, reflective but by no means the main attraction of the nights sky. A scatter of stars twinkled down back at him, as Natasha gingerly plonked herself next him.

He softly looked over her, wearing some spare clothes dad had and watched her wiggle her toes in her PJ shorts and oversized t-shirt.

‘This won’t be fair on you— the answer I’m about to give you,’ she said answering his questioning gaze. ‘I am simply basing my response on assumptions and hopes, upon a version or rather person like you from another timeline, year and trust basis.’

She’d dropped her gaze to her ankles, abnormally skinner than the rest of her shapely form. A present mom had given to her, to inherit. ‘That’s not the best admission of the truth to give, huh.’

She felt him stiffen, the brush of his titanium arm kissed the hairs on her arm. History denoted, Bucky wasn’t wonder shy about women, perhaps even at one point giving Howard Stark and his scion, Tony a run for their money. But his trembling form could be mistaken to a novice to that of a tearful man. They’d be half right, perhaps. You could feel his fear but importantly his restraint performed runs down the base of his being, like a rock band doing a warm-up.

‘You keep talking like you expect me to know who you are, what I mean to you, what you’re meant to mean to me, how we’re connected to Steve. But more importantly, you somehow want and need be to trust you, even when you refuse to look me in the eye,’ his wispy speech a quiet warning.

‘I’m afraid if I look at you Bucky, you won’t like what you see. And for now, it wouldn’t be right to overwhelm you.’

‘With what? I have chosen to trust you, and all I’ve got from you is border line mystic mumbo jumbo. Look, the least you can do is offer me some facts, please. Could you do that …. We don’t even need to talk. We can do that thing your mom does, when I can hear her in my mind.’

She was already shaking her head. ‘It freaks you out, it already does now, because you’re very sure she’s listening in — she is by the way. But so’s the Professor.’

His gaze determined to pin her with a cast of re-assessment, caused another chuckle to tumble from her mouth. ‘My powers are similar to mom’s. I can get into your head too, although mine’s chosen to be more visceral.’

Bucky blinked back his surprise, evidently sure she would not admit she wasn’t quite human. He seemed to take this in stride to be quite honest: ‘So you were born like this? Not like Steve who received a serum? You lot— your mom, dad, Logan, Rogue?’

Natasha was pleased to note the tickle of pink brush his high cheekbones at the mention of Rogue. Though with the combination of her southern croon and her dazzling introduction of: ‘Red, said she was off gallivanting on an archeologist’s dream. Pleased to see she got that right, sugar.’

‘Stop it,’ Natasha’s playful warning was muffled by the hug she’d given Ororo.

She began fiddling with a frayed piece of fabric attached to the pillows piled against her bay window. ‘Yeah,’ And then against her better judgement, her gaze snapped to his. Blazing green locked with his thunder cloud like eyes. ‘is that too weird?’

* * *

It was slow at first, like the effects of creeping paralysis, it was best described like the loosened floor boards of a decaying old house. Each puzzle piece like shape of her room dissolved around them. Replacing her dimly lit room, and the large bay window they shared with the feeling of plush sand between their hands.

The rush of bright blues — the sky and the golden grain — the sand, threw Bucky’s attention around the landmark with a harried expression. ‘We’re on my beach. I even think you’ve added a volcano— is it dormant?’ His tone was half excited and half astounded.

‘Yes.’

His gaze snapped to her and blood rushed to his cheeks again. She in all fairness was dressed for the occasion: in a bikini. She felt his flustered gaze on her as she inspected her immaculate abdomen. The scar she’d been supposed to collect from the Winter Solider eight years into the future, would never form. After all, how could she say goodbye to bikinis when Bucky had settled on looking at the spot an inch from her in the sand.

‘This isn’t real,’ she began. She was sure they both knew that by now— but for a girl who hadn’t liked awkward silences and previously found little use in talk when not necessary, she made sure as hell to fill the air. ‘you seem to like beaches. I’m not a big fan because of dad — his family, biological one— may have drowned or been burned alive by molten lava. The only survivors at the time recorded were Dad and Uncle Alex. So yeah, the volcano is dormant.’

They shared a tartan beach spread and an assortment of foods he must have partial to laid out for the both of them.

The question seemed to teeter on the edge of his tongue, a lot of them happened to, actually, she noted: ‘So are you projecting my minds thoughts… Is this like my “happy place” made real? Are we still in your room.’

Bucky wore swimming trunks and his once metal arm was made flesh again. He raised his arm in wonder inspecting it. ‘I mean if one of your powers were to regrow limbs, I would have come looking for you.’

She snorted, it was of few times he showed shades of the young man who’d been Steve Rogers best friend and comrade. Not Hydra’s Lapdog.

‘You wish, if it were I’d definitely be in high commodity.’ Then her smile dropped a fraction. ‘my mom is a telepath and my dad has for want of a better term laser vision. Cross those genes together and you’re blessed with a creature who looks instead of into your mind (mom’s specialty) and opens up the darker recesses — your soul.’

‘Uhh... so this is a projection of my soul. We’re still in your room.’

She shook her head and scooped a handful of grapes from their hoard of food. Distracted, she plopped a few in her mouth. ‘This is an air-tight pocket dimension running at a decelerated rate than the real world. We only have access because you opened your heart and soul up to me Bucky. I mean even when you didn’t know me, those sad eyes of yours invited me in. ‘

He continued to study her, noting once again she did not make eye contact, spoke to his profile rather than to him directly.

‘The only other person who could ‘break in’ is mom. But then she is strong enough to do so. This place as it was is called the soul world. For the time being I have collected your soul — “and you are my prisoner.”.’

Bucky demanded her attention and colluded it. He could see it now, a faint glow to her iridescent eyes — besides the flecks of blue. She seemed to be something to denote as unearthly.

‘But you're human right?’

She gave a non-committed form of confirmation.

‘Sort of. Professor X explains it like this,’ she said casting her index finger as a pointer as she used the sand much like a whiteboard. ‘we’re constantly growing and evolving. And people like me we’re just running on a slightly different track from you. We eat the same, blink the same and shit too. I just happen to be a mutant. But I don’t think that makes us too different from each other, do you?’ She said offering him a jovial smile.

‘So, you lot are special. I mean my friend was— wait you know that already—Steve, he was like a science experiment but — ‘

‘No one could be more impossible than that man,’ whispered Natasha.

Silence built around them, the crescendo of waves beating the beaches bank, and the salt air slapped gleefully at their faces.

You did know him, didn’t you? ‘

‘What makes you say that?’

‘You sound like you’re talking about the skinny punk I knew, a kid who really just had a good heart and wanted to do the right thing.’

She offered him a beautiful look: ‘He was my friend,’ she sniffed. ‘and I miss him.’

Bucky shook his head, Natasha snapped to attention.

‘What, you think I’d make something up like that? That I didn’t know—’

Bucky raised a gentle hand, she stared at his hand, acting as a guide for her attention. She jumped slightly when he rested his large cool arm on top of her own.

‘I think it’s right to say, it’s your tone. He must have meant a lot to you. Did you lose him? Something like how he lost me.’

Natasha’s brilliant eyes crashed into his, a jagged rush of breath crawled up her throat.

‘Good guess…’ he whispered as Natasha reminded herself to count to ten in soft Russian.

She tucked a nuisance lock of hair behind her ear, offering him a doe like look.

‘I had red in my ledger and what I did … it seemed fitting. It was a way to save everyone.’ She said playing with the shifting weight of sand between her slender fingers.

‘I want to say that I regretted it, jumping off a cliff knowing I’d never see certain faces again. Hearing him laugh again, or watching Clint’s kids play baseball with each other and rope me along into their game. – Oh, shit Bucky, I’m sorry.’ She said. He was clearly entranced by her words, but the dips in his brows told her a clear truth: he had no idea what she was talking about. He wasn’t her James, and not exactly Steve’s Bucky. 

The quick rise of his brow at her curse caused a giggle to escape. ‘How could I be so selfish, huh? When what I did, what started this whole journey, was so I could bring you back— all of you.’

She scrambled to her feet running a hand roughly through her dark mane of red hair. ‘in a past life Bucky, you were James to me and I was Natalia Romanoff. I was born in communist Russia, I was your student and you were my teacher. I once enjoyed bikinis until 2009 when you shot clean through my abdomen – goodbye bikinis. In 2014, under HYDRAs nursery rhymes and constant cryogenically induced state, you almost beat your best friend to an inch of his life. In 2016, your best friend started a Civil War to defend you honor. In 2018, a Mad Titan wiped half the universe out of existence. And after finding you, Steve lost you all over again. For five years we tried to find a way to bring you back, our little family— I heard we did.’

She offered him a free hand. The blinding flash of the sun’s rise wrapped her in its embrace illuminating just how other and different the creature once known as: Natasha Romanoff now was. ‘I’d be happy to show you Bucky. How I got here and maybe answer that question your soul keeps asking me.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Why'd she choose me.’

He was slow to move, hesitant to that of a teasing toddler. In this realm she’d removed his titanium arm, but yet and still, his still felt cool to the touch: ‘Hold on tight will you.’

* * *

Once again, the scene around them appeared to crumble to pieces as the violent and yet wonderful contrast of the indigo infused night sky of a foreign planet filled their gazes. Speckled with an incessant amount of starlight, a shadowed figure made their way up the steep mountain. Close behind him, a cloaked figure had drawn their hood back. He was bald and his skin had been stretched, pulled and was a monstrous shade of red. ‘

Natasha felt Bucky squeeze her hand tighter. ‘Him. What is he doing here?’ He hissed.

“So, this is your penance then, for seeking the powers of a god.” The familiar voice commented, his Brooklyn accent known to both observing parties. 

Steve emerged into the planet's strange light, dressed in a white suit (something she supposed best comparable for Bucky, ‘is like a scuba- diving suit” she told him).

“And yet Captain, you have been deemed worthy of a god it seems.” Something swung in Steve’s right hand. Natasha squinted and almost squawked- what was Mjolnir doing in his grip.

‘Can they hear us?’

Natasha shook her head.

‘The Soul World is a bit like a tape recorder, we document important events that have an effect on us.’

“I can sense, as too does the last stone you possess, you had all six stones on you at some point and time. And now, you wish the return the last of the stones and separate her furthermore from her sisters, until time starts up again. Is that wise Son of Sarah?”

‘We’d agreed in order to bring you back, we’d travel through time to reverse the damage the Mad Titan had inflicted on you. They must have done it— but look at Steve. I wonder what it cost.’

A look of disgust marred Steve’s handsome face, his handsome tired face, she noted. He seemed drained in fact, battle weary, but more so lonely. Where was Sam, where was the Bucky of 2023, neither of them would have let him journey somewhere alone.

Between delicate fingers the green infinity stone, glinted and gloated back at Natasha, as Steve presented it. “My last stop and then I return home. “

Both basked in the purple hue of Vormir’s atmosphere, they peered over the cliff as silence consumed the Red Skull and Captain America. 

“She was brave, valiant, it would be a disservice to note a sign of fear. She was content. I say this Captain, because even when you return the stone, she ‘signed a binding contract.’—”

“A soul for a soul. I know, our friend warned us. We tried to bring her back, Bruce snapped his fingers and near all of the universe was restored. But what about ours? What about—"

“They called you the man out of time Captain, Captain America, and Star-spangled man with a plan. Perhaps they missed out one moniker: The Man who always waits too long. I take it you took too long.”

Natasha could not rationalise how Steve was comfortable enough to speak so freely with his enemy. But grief did funny things to people.

“I wish she knew. Knew what she meant to us … her family. How Morgan, Nate, Lia, Cooper and Pete already miss her like crazy. How pissed Tony was at her. How lost Wanda is without her. How Thor is determined the move the cosmic forces behind space and time with old magic to bring her back and how… how dare she leave me. I wish she’d know how much I’d miss her, how she made me feel. How for some stupid stone, she never got to keep one promise — “ he turned back to the Red Skull with sad glittering eyes as he raised the stone to prepare it’s decent. “she was meant to see me in a minute.”

She felt Bucky slid his heavy arm around her shoulder, he drew her to his side in a similar fashion she wished she could reach for Steve.

A bewildering blast of light blinded them as purple reigned around the planet. When the descent of the soul stone had settled, Steve despite himself looked back wistfully, hoping to see her one last time.

“Please, please come back to me.” Were his departing words.

Natasha was a strong woman, she’d have to be to survive all she had, but as she felt her knees crash against the uneven earth, she could have never fathomed the worst pain ever found was Steve.

He didn’t turn and make his way back down the mountain. He would go back now, to 2023. In the flash of an eye he was gone, but the soft roll of tears remained present on Natasha’s face.

Bucky followed her descent, slowly and hesitantly. As she absorbed his attention like a porous sponge.

'It’s coming now ...’

‘What’s coming...' He began as two figures seemed to materialise out of nowhere.

She’d somehow expected to still appear crumpled and abused — like one of those rag-dolls little girls were so fond of. But much like her female companion in front of her. They appeared translucent but defined in their genetic structure. Natasha strayed to the ghostly figure in front of her past life.

She was several inches taller than Natasha. With austere silver locks and Natasha’s brilliant green eyes copied onto her own frame. She was willowy and her attention seemed to shift from the spot Steve left on back to Natasha.

Her voice even sounded like a faint whispery shade: “He came back for you, and even when he knew he couldn’t have you back. He returned me.”She flashed closer to Natasha, a hairs breathe apart. “he must have really loved you.”

Past ghostly Natasha did not react, the Natasha on the floor with Bucky, flinched.

"He was willing to exchange souls, postpone his intended journey back to 1945 back to Peggy, to have their dance. And maybe stay with her forever.”

Natasha knew crumbling further into Bucky’s chest was not a sign of strength. But how could she stay strong when — ‘Steve doesn’t love easily. He was/ is a bit guarded with who he gives his heart to. But hear me Natasha, he must have been stupid in love with you. Why else would he hold onto you as long as possible —'

And then his eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“I have never consumed that emotion before. Souls, lust and desire. But that was pure visceral love. What is that like Natalia daughter of Ivan. You are but a simple human, born to mortal beings, fragile and temporary. And yet, I feel jealousy my Natalia. Please speak.”

And the ghostly shade of Natasha did: “Steve.” She whispered.

While Natasha holding onto Bucky didn’t understand, the soul stone in her corporal frame did. She’d been holding onto Natasha’s gaze. “Means the world to you. As does Bucky, Sam, Clint, Thor, Bruce, Peter Parker onwards ... you made a little family scatter much like my counterparts once again — the other stones. “and then the stone sighed.

“What happened here, the Mad Titans partial success with the use of myself and my siblings— the snap has caused damage to this timeline: certain events were never meant to occur. Looking into your soul tells me so.”

Bucky’s attention diverted to the soul stone.

“You are a part of me now, Natalia Romanoff. Your noble sacrifice and his— your Steve’s modesty. I am yours and you are mine now. Wherever you chose to go, I am bound to follow.”

And then the shade Natasha spoke, her tone brushed with a stroke of confusion. “A soul for a soul, we were told. Aren’t I died. How do you expect to bring me back to — “

The Soul stone placed a gentle finger on Natasha’s lip. And suddenly in a similar way to how Steve returned the stone to its origin point— blinding light consumed Bucky and an observing Natasha. Still tucked safely in his arms.

When she was brave enough to look on the scene, the soul stone was gone. A Natasha similar in height and weight as the girl in Bucky’s arms was projected in front of them.

The creature in front of them spoke with Natasha’s voice: “how could I look into your soul, look into your past and not want to save you. What happened here ... your soul was never mine to collect. And I want to say, here we are. But that would be wrong Natalia. Something went wrong with this timeline, but I touched your soul and knew there was something good about you. I am close enough to my siblings that I that I can restart things. Move time, space, power for you. Would you like that? To start again?”

And then Natasha spoke with her regular voice: “What would it cost?”

“Everything.” The Stone spoke.

Natasha’s muffled voice snaked out of the space Bucky had left over.

‘What did “everything” matter. When I could fix everything. Do you think tactical Natasha even took the time to consider the negatives?’ She poked her head up, locking eyes with a silent watchful Bucky.

While everything in the Soul World required shattering and the breakdown of a landscape. Returning to Natasha’s bedroom was a seamless process back to reality.

* * *

They both fell ungracefully back to their original positions. Meaning a resounding bang echoed off her bedroom walls. It didn't seem to bother Bucky though. He scrambled to his feet, gently helping her into a sitting position.

His large metal hand cupped her check as he dropped his forehead against her's. 

‘Having fun there with my daughter?’ Spoke up Jean leaning against the open-door frame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:
> 
> You all asked for an update, and here it is.
> 
> I hope some stuff begins to make sense now.
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> Greekgeekable


	3. 3. Bucky

**Chapter Three**

**December 2001**

**Westchester, New **

**Bucky**

‘Here, just how you like it.’

Ororo handed him a mug of steaming coffee — somewhat absently as they made their way down the maze of corridors. He’d been in the mansion for little over a week and though he was aware he was living with at least three telepaths he could count on one hand, he didn’t mind the routine set up of a guide. Ororo was a beautiful slender woman, with billows of white hair, that did little to age her. He’d been caught staring a few times, and wondered if know was one of those moments.

When Bucky looked back at her, she offered him a warm smile— ah yes, definitely caught. She rolled her shoulders leading the way out of the dorm-like corridor dedicated to the student bedrooms. One slouching arm of her jumper exposed her coffee toned complexion.

She was always the first one to greet him in the morning, save for Natasha— who’d originally set upon offering him her bed; before he’d flat out refused and Logan had threatened to dagger him with a pair of his claws— she usually shook him awake from his curled position on the large widow’s ledge. Ororo was clearly complacent with the idea of finding an ‘ageing man’ occupying Natasha’s space. He was actually pretty sure, she encouraged it: exhibit A— being the coffee.

It was a creamy consistency he was coming to appreciate. He opened his mouth, ready to ask how she knew — ‘Natasha told me.’ Was her answer.

For all her talk about her powers being different to her mother’s they sounded very much the same. ‘Saying that Natasha also knows what your favorite drink will be in the future — a black coffee with two sugars. She’d thought it’d be funny, if you knew.’

Bucky raised a brow encouraging the mutant to go on (Mutant, it was strange to associate these people as other, really. Or maybe that was why they’d been so nonchalant in allowing him into their home.) Ororo didn’t seem too different from him, but then again, she could conceal her powers.

‘So, Natasha’s powers allow her to see the future?’

It was a bit disconcerting realising this would become his norm.

Ororo offered him a demure look before taking a generous sip of her mug — from what he saw floating in it: it was something green and perhaps earthy.

They made it to the main entry way, teenagers streaked past, leaving and arriving to the dining room.

Bobby and Anne -Marie offered him cheerful morning grins as they exited the dining area: ‘I have to thank you Bucky,’ said Bobby, causing Bucky to blink.

‘Uh...’

‘Speak in full sentences, Bobby,’ chided Rouge, with an eye-roll that look rather familiar. ‘What he’s essentially saying is thank you for your existence, sweetheart. Natasha doesn’t always cook — for a time we’d thought she’d caught on Jean’s non-cooking bug. But we’ve got training and I don’t know how fast our asses are gonna move with our stomachs lugged like this. ‘

She dragged Bobby further away, offering Bucky and Ororo a :'See you both in the training room.' From Rouge, and from Bobby: ‘I genuinely think it’s just Nat’s diabolical plan to fatten us up and slow us down.’

‘Are those two always like that? ‘Bucky walked purposely past the collection of hungry students and through the swing doors of the more corporate kitchen— into the one the Xavier family had cultivated for years.

She had her back to him. Her dark red mane of hair, pulled into a ponytail — wearing a very baggy t-shirt.

‘Are you talking about my idiots?’ Natasha inquired. ‘Or another pair? I think Rogue and Kurt actually make a pretty interesting combination.’

Ororo sat patiently in front of the kitchen island, flicking a finger of indication to Bucky to do the same.

‘Your idiots,’ intoned Ororo.

Bucky blinked rapidly as she slid a pile of chocolate chip pancakes in front of him. He felt his stomach grumble at the sight of the symmetrical entourage on his plate: ‘I used to hate making these. It wasn’t like the Red Room thought it was a requirement of our training— to learn how to cook. But I think Steve was horrified to find out, the best my cooking extended to: was pasta.’ She offered him the bottle of syrup. ‘Sarah must have been a hell of a cook— I had this conspiracy theory that Steve was secretly trying to fatten me up. Anyway,’ she poured some syrup on her own stack. ‘Bon appetite.’

His first bite was curious, but his second, third, fourth and onwards ravenous. He paused when he found wondrous eyes pinned on him. Natasha was nursing a mug of black coffee opposite the breakfast table from himself.

But this girl had big brown eyes. She couldn’t have been but a few years, maybe months older than Natasha. Unlike Rogue, the girl didn’t offer him a coy inviting smile. Hers was shy and — ‘Just say hi Kitty. He doesn’t bite, well much.’ Teased Natasha, behind her mug. The quirk of her lip pulled up.

Kitty flushed a nasty shade of red— it kind of reminded him of a badly burnt tomato. ‘Don’t Tasha, ‘she moaned.

But in return Natasha simply winked.

‘Stay out of my head, Tasha, you know how rude that is.’

Calm and serene she replied: ‘Then perhaps you shouldn’t let me — or project so loudly Kitty. We’ve talked about this.’ She said inching her finger tips to rub her temples.

‘If it hurts, then good.’

Natasha seemed to hum in agreement.

‘Okay, now you’re just acting like a bi—’ something slapped Kitty’s face and the sound of spluttering was not the thing to cause the eruption in Natasha; it was Jean’s effortless chide of: ‘Language.’

Natasha he’d witness had a habit of smirking, smiling more times than most. But her jingle was something else. She threw her head back breathing in the humour of the situation.

‘No need to be childish,’ said Jean drawing the wet cloth from Kitty’s a gasped form, Bucky watched enchanted as he done so every time he’d watch her withdraw something through the air towards herself.

‘This is a clear bias right here if I ever saw it— the only reason Tasha, is even absolved of anything is because of those —' she pointed an accusatory finger at the stack of pancakes laying innocently on the plate.

‘Hey,’ said Natasha brandishing her spatula like one of Logan’s claws, ‘these were made with precision and care.’

‘Very relevant, I’m sure,’ said Bucky, sifting in his seat to find Natasha smiling at him — this he was sure, was one of her special smiles, maybe reserved for him and a few others.

‘Nat— Natasha, can I ask something?’

She hummed, sitting adjacent from him half entertaining a newspaper and her cooled cup of coffee. She’d seemed fixed on one particular page for some time now.

‘Your shirt, ah, is it Steve’s. Like it’s not like you could bring it with you across dimensions and re-starting universes?’

Her brilliant verdant gaze licked his own, before offering him a coy smile: ‘What’s to stop me? The Ancient One is just in Manhattan with the Time Stone.'

Bucky opened his mouth, eyes widening — of course she knew where the infinity Stones were located.

Originally when she’d trusted him with her secrets, Jean who’d he initially thought was there to chuck him out of her room — navigated as verbal assistant with the processes and purposes of the cosmic stones.

‘Mom, can read my mind. This is just one of the copies from both of your SSR days I picked up from the Smithsonian that features the Harold’s of Captain America and the Howling Commando’s. It’s a copy of Steve’s shirt before the serum. Your mural is a lovely dedication too, though someone can’t count— they got your date of birth wrong.’

‘When did you start visiting him, staring at his mural?’

‘I visited you all.’

Bucky raised a brow.

‘It’s true,’ she cried, ‘Roe, isn’t it? I asked for your leather jacket (they make replicas in the gift shop for my twelfth birthday— I still don’t fit it too well.),’ She offered him a shrug.

Bucky studied her— they’d only know each other a week, near her whole family could read his thoughts, and unlike one of them, he didn’t have supernatural powers and yet, when she looked at him with interest—

‘Bucky, do you want to go out with me?’

He almost fell off his seat. She chuckled under her breath, and so did Ororo.

‘Not like that Buck, you’ve been cooped up in this house for a week. And you need a different setting is all. If you’re worried about anyone recognizing you, I can alter others perception of you, if you like?’ Her tone had absorbed into something melancholic and demur.

He scrambled for her hand resting on the kitchen island, hesitated and the exchanged hands in an awkward gesture.

Natasha shook her head: ‘I trust you.’

He blushed — ‘Maybe, or maybe you’re just relying on a memory of me?’

She scrunched her face, her nose becoming something adorable: ‘it’s so so bits, but you're forgetting, you let me into your soul. I know everything about you — every lie, every lustful thought, every kill. Fitting for a woman who had red on her ledger.’ She leaned across the table, lightly tapping his face, before tenderly cupping it.

‘I’m honestly the last person to judge you, Buck.’

* * *

Ororo was the one leading him to the training room, Natasha was just clearing up — he’d hoped she’d be fast about it. He wanted to know if he’d be able to decipher the different fight styles she adopted when she opted to use and not use her powers when defending herself.

Sparring should be fine, it was practice for when the real battle would occur. It had popped up to Bucky more like a wondering recognition: Natasha had restarted the universe with little change in mind. Some changes were evident, with her finding him before (more than likely) his expected time, her having powers, and maybe more. But the plan must have been to follow this new restart along the similar lines of the original.

‘There’s a fight coming,’ he breathed, half absorbed in his thoughts till he felt a heavy set of eyes bore into the back of his skull.

He found Ororo staring at him stunned: ‘For goodness sake, please tell me we don’t have another telepath in this house. How did you know so fast?’

Bucky offered her his best dumbfounded look.

‘I – what?’ He said, as Ororo snatch his hand and began sprinting —

They reached the pith-point of the ensuing chaos: students — novice and experienced ones, teachers, Jean, Scott, Kurt and Kitty he saw were scattered on the lawn standing a posed a man with a metal helmet levitating above the ground.

He had a collection of mutants too, but Bucky would trust them as fast as he could chuck Steve over his shoulder back in the day.

‘Charles,’ And the mutant, the levitating one’s voice was resonant and bounced off invisible walls. ‘my old friend, what have you done. As an omega mutant gifted in telepathy — surely you would have read his mind, checked his mind: even used that infernal device of the internet — to look him up.’

The mutant pointed to Bucky— who sighed. What could Hydra have commissioned him to do? The mutant he noted had a faint German intonation to his American words. Hydra, the xenophobic arsehole, rooted in bigoted behaviour had used him like some sick marionette doll to execute whatever wants and wishes they had conceived.

Bucky's blunt finger nails dug into his naked palm. Until he absorbed a familiar presence he was begin to associate: her glorious profile wasn’t exactly blank, more amused than anything. Her best distinguishing features were the subtle dusting of freckles on her cheek buds.

Jean lightly squeezed his shoulder, and spoke in a loud, clear voice:

‘We are very clear on who James ‘Bucky’ Buchanan Barnes happens to be, thank you. Clearly your telepath, if she was anything worth her salt would have been able to notice: his usual working process — is guilt and disillusionment. He holds a cloudy film around him — quite a few of his more haunting actions, you can taste were not of his own volition. Back down Mag— ‘

‘HYDRA’s lapdog!’ Snapped a new voice — Bucky stared at a woman who was as blue as Kurt, she had slicked back red hair, scales and stood entirely naked. No one seemed offended (except Bucky— but that was for something else).

‘Please Raven, see reason. If both Jean and I vetted the boy — ‘Charles paused, and passed him a curious look. Natasha had been playfully calling him: My archived fossil point two — and she may be right. Biologically, at least, Charles was his junior. Bucky almost, almost smiled at that.

‘It’s Mystique, Xavier! And how dare you, read my thoughts, telepath. That piece of shit, hunted me down for seven months straight. His orders were clear — assassinate the scum. Do you know how many of our kind he’s executed! How many of our brothers and — ‘

Natasha, wherever she'd sprang, flew or sprinted from appeared at his side, inappropriately dressed for the occasion in casual jean shorts and a tank top. Her luscious dark mane of red hair (much like her mom’s) was pulled into a high ponytail, draw his hand into her own. She’d fixed her gaze on Mystique, who seemed unable to open her mouth. Slowly the blue mutant fell to her knees, one leg at a time. Her face contorting around invisible pain.

‘So, I take it, this isn’t simulation training.’ He drawled.

She threw him a handsome smile — roguish in-fact, her skinny wrist lazily raised, subduing but yet prepared for the onslaught that would come their way from the Brotherhood of Mutants.

‘That line right there has promoted you to my new best friend.’

He snorted at her, shaking his head at how strange she was. However, she had noted this was a Natasha without the influence of the Red Room’s very helpful education system.

Suddenly the playful light was replaced by a look of soft intrigue — ‘How in 1945, Bucky Barnes fell from a German freight train and was picked to pieces and then reworked by Hydra. How he has unknowingly killed - without control of his motions. I’m not asking you to pity him— Bucky hates that shit— but blaming the puppet instead of the puppeteer is bullshit.’

Mystique clawed at her throat, scrambling for release, before an invisible force flung Natasha off her feet.

Bucky’s attention zeroed in on a woman in white, she was provocatively dressed in a way designed to capture all your attention. Her platinum blonde hair fell in perfect curls around her beautiful face.

She was the epitome of the woman in white, with something akin to lingerie and thigh high boots. Jean actually hissed— the bizarre noise drew Scott closer to his wife's side, depositing a sweet kiss of her forehead and something like a whispered promise.

The woman in white watched them with malice and said, in a lovely voice: ‘Oh Scottie, are you still trying to reassure Jean, she’s the only one for you? Cute, really — ‘then she turned her attention on him, and licked her lips. ‘if Natalia saved your mind simply for that body of yours, then we’re functioning on the same brain length. ‘

Bucky felt something cold begin to creep up his body, before he was tackled to the ground. Natasha with blazing green eyes, stared down at him long enough to offer him: his smile, before levelling a look at the woman in white.

‘Please gladly fuck off Emma,’ both Bucky and Natasha helped the other to their feet. Emma’s soft cornfield blue eyes chuckled.

She like most of the mutants, must age at a decelerated rate. Because she, like Jean and Ororo were a pleasure to look at.

Emma tutted: ‘Sorry about before, I simply couldn’t have you murder Mystique— "but you don’t do that anymore”, do you? You joined the X-Men and self-righteously save — ‘

Emma was uprooted from where she stood by Scott’s quartz beam. His growl, though too far for Emma to hear, featured.

‘Join? Now that’s incorrect, isn’t it? Do not speak on things you don’t know Emma. Just because you’ve skimmed the surface area of her mind. Does not mean you know!’

‘If your brat didn’t employ blockers, maybe we would have destroyed you long ago — ‘

‘Erik will never kill Charles though. You don’t need to read his mind to know that. Thank you, Emma, — what you probably read in my mind and saw: was Bucky right? Bravo, bravo good woman.’ She offered a brief clap of her hands, approaching slowly to position herself in front of Bucky. ‘But no, no, who you saw, and was solely looking for was The Winter Solider, he hasn’t been here for some time. Perhaps you should clean your inner eye, before commanding a whole army to our front lawn.’

She gave Emma a small curtsy.

‘So, I hate to be the cliché, but if you want to get to my Bucky, you’ll have to come through me,’ she offered a generous smirk. 

Emma drew back her lips and snarled: ‘Gladly.’

‘Fun fact: Emma-' said Natasha, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘you were almost always going to be a wonderful distraction.’

Three additional parties — seemed to understand the meaning behind that, as Emma stiffened, Scott blushed and Jean’s eyes seemed to flash opaque.

Something like a huge bolder came streamlining towards both he and Natasha ‘s direction.

She was a dancer, however, a ballerina who'd never danced more deadlier. She used her ‘Widow Bites’ in the same way Steve was known to use his shield.

‘Are you ready for this? I feel like this will almost be as great as Budapest.’

Before Bucky could ask her about Budapest and what was remotely interesting about it:

‘Here Hair take this, Red says you're good with a gun.’ Logan snapped at him.

Bucky looked to the Professor, whose voice invaded his thoughts: ‘You will simply subdue, not kill another soul in this fight.’

Bucky nodded.

Kitty and Kurt paired off, an optical illusion who seemed to confuse a majority of the Brotherhood, disappearing and appearing.

Rogue seemed as attached to Natasha, as physically possible, yelling — ‘My gloves are securely on, Red! Kick some ass.’

Natasha shouted something like — ‘I wish Tony were here, and that handy Iron suit of his would have been great for you!’

He briefly wondered who “Tony " was, while firing shots.

Bucky, was aware that Natasha had a friend named Hawkeye but before his fall he’d been very accurate when it came to a gun. — He knew, Natasha knew. She’d warned him too, told him there would be some aspects he wouldn’t be too happy with her knowing. But his soul had been willing to tell her everything she’d whispered to it.

Magneto sent plummeting in Bucky’s direction the carcass of a truck. Somehow it split in two, as Natasha used the two pieces as her stepping block. The heat from Scott's Laser vision aided his daughter.

‘I’d be careful Magneto; my parents are pretty protective!’

‘You still defend him!’ He bellowed, glaring at Bucky. ‘Even with all he did, what he has done to the children of our brothers and sisters.’

Natasha gasped, pausing for a second too long, as something passed through her calf.

She fell to one knee — ‘Erik!’ Bellowed Xavier.

Natasha scrambled for air, eyes tightly closed as something like whooshing shrapnel moved through the air.

‘Jean!’ Yelled Scott. ‘Jean, don’t she’ll be okay!’

Bucky turned to Natasha’s parents. Jean appeared to be emanating with something unearthly.

‘Control it, Jean! Tasha will be fine. A flesh wound!’ said Rogue, running to the mutant who seemed to be surrounded by a strange firelight. 

The use of moving metal, he soon realised was an airline craft descending towards them.

Bucky ran towards Magneto yelling: ‘Stop this! Stop it, here have at me! Kill me, bury me alive. But don’t — ‘

He was tackled, by an ice-cold figure— Bobby's voice sounded in his ear: ‘Tash will kill me, if you do that sacrificing shit.’

In the mist of distraction, Natasha, with her damaged leg, placed the tips of her fingers on Magneto’s neck and slowly snaked her hands around him, her eyes a river-filled stream of power.

They both fell to their knees in synch, as a hollowed, emotionless voice echoed: ‘Thank you for your cooperation, Magneto.’

A single tear trickled down his face, Natasha had told him when someone looked into her eyes — they gave her permission to scrummage their soul.

What had she found in there? What —

‘Natasha!’ He cried as she seemed to disappear out of existence with her “prisoner.”

‘I hate it when Red does that. No dust or smoke in sight, just silence.’ Commented Logan, glaring in her direction. ‘What the hell would possess her to go off with that metallic –’

Natasha said time moved at a decelerated rate in the Soul World, but it seemed like one moment she was gone and the next she returned. She looked off into the distance as Magneto staggered back with wild eyes, fixed on Natasha, who calmly walked back to Bucky’s side, easily sliding her hand into his metal one.

She watched like an inspector, as an unspoken command was washed upon the other members of the Brotherhood of Mutants, by their leader.

Bucky watched her like something akin an immaculate vision of religious needs.

‘Magneto,’ hollered Natasha. The mutant paused and looked back to her. ‘I intend to keep my promise.’

Something telling passed between the two mutants before Magneto replied. ‘If that was you moving without little use of your powers, then I fear witness of you while they are in full use.’

Natasha simply nodded, slowly turning her back to him.

The unearthed turf of the lawn seemed to re-lay itself with the work of Jean. Every so flick of her wrist, dictated this, however her interest was fixed on Natasha who seemed to sink into her open arms.

Snuggling like a small child against her chest, Natasha said: ‘How do you feel about mixing me a bloody Mary, though seven shots of vodka, would always do the trick.’

And though, Logan snorted appreciatively, while Jean plonked her offspring on the head, she said: ‘Such churlish behaviour, what will I ever do with you Natalia?’

‘Continue being my mother, forever and ever?’

Jean placed a fleeting kiss on her brow: ‘I can manage that.’

* * *

After a quick bath, Natasha curled in a ball in one of Professor X’s plush sofa chairs. Dull eyes sort him out, before offering a smile, he was growing to recognize was reserved for him only.

The creature curled limbs to her chest, yawning with a slow-moving hand to cover the action, had protected him. She with fiery eyes— hair to match had offered him only something a skinny punk so long ago had. He saw very easily how Steve had loved her.

Rogue, alongside Logan, Ororo leaned against the window seal presenting the pink tinge rays of a setting sun. Jean and Scott leaned against the bookcase behind Xavier tucked behind his desk.

‘It seems like we had a trying day, but thanks to Natasha’s quick wit, we have subdued Erik for the time being— I wish you’d let me in and see what you showed him. But it must be important, if your impressive blockers have been thrown up,' said the professor. 

She grunted in answer, and his smile fondly back at her.

‘But did it have to be like this— all I wanted to do was play Rogue on that stupid stick and box of her’s and Bobby’s in the living room today, maybe get some fucking Chaucer in. Not fight today and be chucked by Juggernaut.’ Logan growled, levelling a look at Bucky.

‘Stop that.’ Snapped Natasha in a tired tone.

‘Why Red? White snow bitch came storming here because they saw him— saw the Winter Solider, ready to tear down this place and you, and just like age Martyr in every year, month, and timeline you stuck your neck out for him!’

Natasha straightened up in her seat: ‘of course, I did!’

‘Just because you knew a Bucky in your timeline doesn’t mean you should—’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ she snapped. ‘whatever year, month, timeline like you said Howlett, if it had been you— you I’d jumped off a cliff for to save the universe, half the population for, I’d do again!’

She wasn’t gloating – Natasha didn’t know how to do that.

A silent battle began between the two continued, until Rogue’s tiny voice filtered into the room.

‘You must mean something important, sugar, if Natasha was willing to go against Magneto: but Logan’s got a point, why defend the Winter Solider?’ Both he and Natasha snapped to attention. 

‘I’m not attacking you, I’m just wondering what possessed you to run head-ass into Magneto’s open arms. The Winter Solider in some of the film reels I saw, shot first and then walked away— you and he, really are different, huh?’

Bucky felt something clawing at his throat as he retracted into his seat. ‘Maybe that’s why Tasha went after you ... you're a bit like us. Not in control, and in need of a giving hand— Tash?’

Unfocused eyes glanced at Rogue— ‘Buck,’ Natasha said, and in that moment her voice was the most soothing thing to touch his ears. A frisson of joy always rolled down him whenever she said that - Steve had been synonymous with that nickname.

‘You should tell them about December 1991 …’

‘Nat.’ It was a slip of the tongue really, he wasn’t too sure how familiar or safe it was to call her such a thing. But in return she offered him an understanding smile.

‘Is this what you do? Use the excuse of this new universe or timeline, to justify your means of help. Nat, I…’ 

The poor girl was dog-tired and blinking owlishly back at him, as Bucky felt runs being performed down his back.

‘You’re not too different from how I remember you — the Bucky from my original timeline. More talkative and skittish. Then again you have less red in your ledger – or so you’ve showed me.’

She stretched. ‘Do you know I’m taller now, like instead of five foot three, now I’m a decent five foot seven.’ 

‘To answer your question, I remember everything. That’s what it cost me— restarting the timeline: everything, you’ve done, I’ve done, small insignificant mistakes and giant ones too. ‘

Logan, Ororo and Rogue stood leaning against the window seal, as absorbed as he was— so they must not know.

‘Natalia, is still good at keeping her secrets Bucky,’ answered Jean. ‘Well, with a few exceptions.’ She indicated herself and Xavier.

So, they know she knows then, that Natasha isn’t really her daughter and yet chooses to —

‘You’re wondering if Scott and I really are Natasha’s parents. If we sired her or simply adopted her on one of our travels to communist Russia.’ She smirked, bringing the cup of tea to her lips. Bucky sat mesmerized. It wasn’t as such he needed confirmation, when near all Jean’s features had been copied back onto Natasha, bar her nose and thick brows and chin maybe.

‘When I was twenty-two, I almost destroyed the world, I was infected for want of a better word, by a cosmic entity named: the phoenix. I thought my penance; my cosmic karma was barrenness. I almost died homing that ability. I was already a powerful mutant, but the power was lustful. I’d never been more enamoured with an experience. Until I found out I was with child. A child with Scott had been a want of mine – both secret and acknowledged.’

‘We couldn’t go to an ordinary doctor of course, there was a nearly 99% chance this child would be a mutant, like us. Hank was fantastic, Jean was phenomenal and Professor X highlighted something key to us,’ said Scott joining the conversation and linking hand with his wife. They both leaned off the bookcase too.

He couldn't argue it felt like an interview with the parents.

‘Souls and timelines are funny, tricky things, of course.’

‘Of course.’ Echoed Bucky, not completely sure as to where they were heading to.

‘When the soul stone restarted Natasha’s original timeline, she latched onto the next powerful cosmic entity besides her siblings, that would stabilize her connection with Natasha —'

‘Jean,’ Bucky breathed as the mutant nodded, pride glistening in her eyes.

‘Our mutant genes were enough to amalgamate the tenuous connection a human would be burdened with; as to not burn Natasha out as it did to the hero of her timeline. Natalia Jean Romanoff-Grey - Summers was born after nine hours of hard labor, premature by a month, and perfect.’

Jean walked around the desk, picking up an apple, she inspected it for a moment before taking a generous bite.

Bucky opened and then closed his mouth, wanting ask the question teetering on his tongue.

‘If that beautiful question on your lips Mr. Buchanan Barnes is: does that mean Natasha has inherited my connection to the phoenix. Then my answer would be: more than likely.'

‘It sounds like you know the last of my secrets, perhaps it’s time you faced your biggest one?’ whispered Natasha.

In a room filled with her parents, Rogue, Logan, Ororo and Xavier, small hands cupped his in her own: Natasha, his attention drew back to her. Crouched in front of him: it was hard to believe the girl staring at him with beautiful green eyes— with tiny flecks of blue in them— sort him out. Asking him to forget for now, that she was a mutant, a cosmic vessel. Remember, how he was looking at a girl who’d be eighteen at one point.

‘You can’t run away from this… today being the 11th of December, or how in a few days it would be best if you come with me to Long Island, pay respects to the both of them and their son. To see what Tony has become.'

He wanted to spite her and ask — “how important is this to you?” Hiss it, in an undertone— she knew, of course she knew. Maybe even without her powers, she knew, the timeline was still pretty much the same.

‘Why are you doing this? Why?’ he said his voice mirroring his shaking form.

Natasha pushed herself to her feet and drew him into a hug (sitting in his lap, wrapping her arms around him). Bucky followed her lead with dead arms.

‘For the same reason I saved you, the same reason you gave me easier access to break you out of HYDRA’s control: you care about every kill— human or mutant. There is no difference in that amazing mind of yours, Bucky.’ She looked out of the window. ‘So many of you allow me into your souls, without much forethought regarding that consequence. I don’t have to tell you the right thing to do Bucky. You were ready to stupidly sacrifice yourself to Magneto.’

She offered him a sad smile: ‘You were in New York and stupidly ready to sacrifice yourself then, you were looking for him, weren’t you — would still do so, even in seven years when Tony makes the Iron Suit. But it doesn’t cost much to reach for a gun. What I am saying, whether this decision was conscious or unconscious, I’m with you…’

‘Till the end of the line, or the point in which Tony Stark murders me himself.’

Natasha shrugged: ‘I’m pretty good with drama queens. I once posed as his secretary to understand his life. Maybe this time, he might just need a friend.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes:
> 
> It was imperative to get an POV from Bucky, as he is more or less in this timeline Natasha's Clint.  
We don't get a lot of his thoughts( I'll probably add that in).
> 
> 16/12/1991 is the documented deaths of Howard and Maria Stark and I'm sticking to it.
> 
> In 2001 - Natasha is around Seventeen/Eighteen and Jean has been aged up too.
> 
> The next chapter might be the last chapter concerning pre- MCU timeline storylines, a time skip should be expected.  
I hope most things will be clear to you now.
> 
> I realise there is no Steve in these chapters and it's wonderful to know you're invested in this story, so thank you everyone engaged in this narrative.
> 
> I hope to explain the dimensions of Natasha's Soul Stone's powers more and introduce the Fantastic Four soon maybe.
> 
>   
Steve is coming soon, y'all will see.  
Thanks,
> 
> Greekgeekable


	4. Long Island, New York

**Chapter Four**

**December 16th 2001**

**Long Island, New York**

**Natasha**

It was 1943 and she waited for a boy on top of one of the stoop steps. Her spirals of dark red hair collected on top of her head in a high ponytail as she waited as she should do, patiently for him. It was something like a quirky demand, to wait on him and expect him to find her— like he was some kind of mutant endowed with superpowers.

But the ‘subversion’ of superpowers was kept up—the expectation as Natasha smoothed down the long skirt she’d purchased for the occasion on a crispy October’s afternoon, it was a much different environment from her current situation. At that moment, in her present, she’d rested her head on Bucky’s shoulder, seated next to a flirty Rogue and Kitty who fought to garner his attention. Her parents set a head in the front seats— and despite the block of a visor, she’d been very sure Dad had been chuckling.

They’d all been (were) dressed in the somber attire of black mourning wear, as Howlett, Kurt, Ororo and Professor X followed behind them in another car, weaving towards Long Island.

But as Natasha blinked now, bringing a hand to cover her eyes from the dull October sun, the additional touch of her baby blue skirt was clear evidence she was not where she was supposed to be. And that was okay.

“Why are you frowning like that? Am I late, are you mad at me? You’re a lot further than the last time I found you.”

Moving the cover of her hand as an acting shield against the sunlight, the slender frame of a young man did that for her instead. “My hero.” She murmured with a fond smile, witnessing the burst of red explode across his cheeks. Her shield was not a very tall man, perhaps two or three inches shorter than her with a sweep of blond hair, when matured enough could be mistaken for a dirty blond/ brown. He’d look amazing with a full beard— comely to the sight. But then again, she was thinking of the man he would become. The man in front of her, offered a helpful hand, lifting her to her feet. The unfair advantage of the last stoop step gave her more height to look down on him. In her original timeline, all she’d have the advantage of was looking up at him.

His eyes, were like the creation and combustion of two iridescent stars in the night sky, and she had the urge to kiss him, absorb him and claim him as her own. Brand a kind of love he had/ would give to her when he returned the soul stone and resurrected her and their shared timeline. But her beautiful smile dropped from the comely downturned corners of her lips; she jumped the last step to look — though not too far down — into Steve Rogers eyes.

He wasn’t dressed in his dapper brown military suit either; meaning he hadn’t started making the rounds concerning his enrolment in the army, or the war time efforts didn’t seem like a threat yet to America— damnable Pearl Harbour. 

She easily bumped his shoulder— wanting and needing to lace her hand into his warm one. The sensation of his large weight she’d have to hold out on till the injection of the super solider serum, but even now wouldn’t be appropriate. He wasn’t hers to have … yet. She looked over his worn shirt and trouser, and zeroed in on the drawing pad tucked under his arm and the pencil placed behind his ear. She was about to sing his praises when she zeroed in on the trickle of blood tucked in the corner of his mouth.

She slapped his shoulder, ignoring his wince as she must have caught his bruised shoulder. “What fight did you get into now Rogers. Jesus, what do I need to do, put a bell on you every time you go for a walk?” 

A smirk played on his lips as he rubbed his shoulder. “Geez, you’re as bad as Bucky. Though don’t tell him, I think you hit harder. Look… I had to — "

“Protect some dames from some creep who wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She finished for him, running a hand threw his hair, a soft thumb following the curve of his bristled jawline.

Another flutter of heat spotted his skin, it was easier this time to pull back, and start walking. He caught up and said: “I was hopping you’d come! I have some good news.”

She cut a look to his handsome profile, it amazed her even now how he couldn’t understand before the serum, the title, and the shield, he was a hell of a catch.

“Tell me what Rogers, you look like you’re about to burst.”

He offered her a funny look, he often did when she spoke. She never hid the fact she wasn’t exactly from ‘around here.’ And perhaps the refreshing inception of her visits were necessary for their mutual relationship. The evidence was tantamount: “I went to Stark’s Expo with Bucky… it was his last night… I was saying goodbye and something amazing happen. No, more like I met someone amazing.” For a brief moment a frisson of worry erupted in her stomach, as the red lipped flash of Peggy Carter popped to mind, but of course he wouldn’t meet her yet. “His name is Erskine, he’s a scientist, he must have seen something in me because I’m being—”

Even knowing what he was going to say next, even if it was inappropriate, even if it wasn’t the time to touch him, she pulled him into a hug. The old Natasha raised by the Red Room wouldn’t have been so much as dictated by emotions. But she wasn’t her anymore.

She felt the rolls of surprise pass through him, before he returned her hug, wrapping his arms around her. It didn’t matter that they were standing in the middle of the pavement, encouraging others to walk around their embraced frames, she was the daughter of the legendary and feared Phoenix— Jean Grey and Amazing Cyclops— Scott Summers. 

“I thought you’d be happy! Thank you by the way, for all your encouragements. I guess it worked out like you’ve been saying.” His voice muffled over her shoulder.

She offered him a wonderful smile with a careless shrug: “I’ve been telling you that for years Rogers. You’re amazing. To celebrate we can go to the diner and you can tell more about the Expo, what Stark was like. What he’s working on. Did they get you a set list on what you’re going to do the first week of training? Why you purposely missed out on talking about that the cute girl Bucky set you up with.”

Steve lead the way, as they waited at a batch of traffic lights. “You never met him and yet you speak with such confidence about him.”

“Who are we talking about Rogers? Are you jealous?”

His ears peaked red again as they crossed the road. 

“You really enjoy the teasing thing.” He japed, looking very familiar to the man who’d told her he knew what a kiss was, the same man who when she offered him companionship, he’d returned her offer with only friendship.

Stupid feelings—she concurred. “Bucky, Stark maybe. You’re not the best at hiding things. I know. I know… you’re not from around here, you move a bit like the ficticous made up fairy tales of Santa, you appear when needed and wanted." He discussed in a hushed tone. “First when I was ten, when Momma passed, when Bucky was really sick that one time I thought I’d lose him and now.” 

“We both know my unspoken truth Rogers, ‘I’m not from around here,’.” She said slipping her hand in his and planted a rushed kiss on his cheek.

* * *

They slid into a booth taking opposite sides to face each other, wearing uncontrollable smiles on their faces.

“So, tell me about Stark, were you close enough to get a good look at him.” Knowing as she did, that Steve and the senior Stark would build upon a relationship of mutual respect, that would eventually be transferred to this son; and more so, the fact she was heading to his memorial site, this trip to the past felt poignant.

“Ugh he seemed kind of outlandish, a bit bigger than life. Well that’s what he put off… but you know Miss Grey- Summers, considering what happened with Erksine. Stark didn’t seem like too much of a big deal.” He admitted a bit shyly. 

The waitress sauntered up to them, placing two burgers in front of them. Natasha turned to note an order hadn’t been made, until she spotted a young boy sat with his parents, with a shock of brown hair, he was grinning and with a smiling face he faced her. And she was shocked to see the child-like joy on Charles’s face. She sent a concealed wink his way.

“What did he ask you?” Knowing full well of the test and various ones he’d put Steve through.

“Did I want to kill Nazis.” 

“And let me guess, oh Mr. Patriot… you said something like, not really, it’s the …” she said, cheek propped on a proffered hand.

“Yeah, my answer was bullies, how I didn’t like them.”

“It's why you're sporting that shiner now. Which reminds me,” Natasha waved for a waitress. A pretty blonde approached looking as most people often did at the dichotomy she made with Steve, “Would you be a uh… diamond and get us some ice and a clean cloth. His eye isn’t doing too well and I’m worried he won’t be able to see through it soon,” she crooned.

She’d worked up a New Yorkers accent that still managed to juxtapose with Steve’s charming Brooklyn one, she’d learned to love.

The waitress eyed her a moment longer with an interested look before turning away. 

“Are you used to that by now, catching people’s attention.” He said, with a lot of interest in his burger. Natasha smirked.

“My ma has a saying, if they’re only interested in your features forget them. What I have to say and think will live on far longer than the bat of my eyelashes. I suppose the same should go for you. It’s no one’s business to know why we hang out. I just happen to like you a lot Mr. Rogers.”

He wasn’t bathed in red this time, his keen brilliant blue eyes locked with hers as a shy smile played on his lips.

“But you’re not in love with me, are you… I don’t think that because of how you look at me, you know. It’s a bit like that Mrs. Darling hidden kiss you wear, it’s in your eyes, kind of like a sparkle that ignites when you look away and clearly thinking of someone else. He must be some lucky guy Miss Grey-Summers.”

Getting him comfortable with just referring to her by her maiden name had been a bit a task. What forename could she offer and not give him a lie. She just couldn’t really lie to him… not anymore. Not when he had saved her soul, resurrected her soul, stolen her heart and hopes when he’d returned back to 1945 to unite with a past love.

This Steve she looked at with warm eyes, was the original of this timeline, (of her timeline she’d amended). And once again the feeling and need erupted inside her: the need and want to kiss him.

Following all technicalities, he would always be her first and last love, how could she be so drawn to a man she could not have. For so long she had functioned as the temptress and now, even with all the training from her past life in the Red Room; she leaned over her plate of food, cupped his cheek, briefly registered his surprised expression before placing a brief kiss on his lips.

“I wish you the best of luck for your future endeavors Mr. Rogers. It seems like I’ll be going now.” She breathed, feeling the familiar tug in her chest, a signal from the stone that it was time to return to her place of origin.

* * *

“Why the hell are you staring at me like that?” breathed Natasha raising her head from Bucky’s shoulder, slowly rubbing sleep out of her eyes, and ultimately smudging her eyeliner, if Rogue’s faint howl of woe was interpreted correctly.

‘Because you’ve only now decided to fade back into existence. Your parents were figuring out excuses for why you weren’t with them at the memorial site. What the hell were they meant to say to a bunch of civilians— “Oh Nat, yeah, she uh, disappeared out of existence to god knows where, and will pop back to existence when her powers see fit.” It’d be a great distraction from the fact the Tony’s parents murderer has the balls to stand and mourn them like some nobody.’

Natasha’s head lolled on his shoulder again as she huffed out a breath.

‘Where did you go, by the way… if I can ask… the soul realm?’

‘When Steve dropped the stone back in its place of origin returning her to where we would lay and fuse. His intention was to retrieve me. And he did in a way, but with that same intent; he has linked us across timelines, universes and time-streams. I don’t have a real control over it, but I get to interact with him before he’s gone into the ice. It’s kind of a nice treat ... considering the long wait I’d have to endure.’

‘So, when we finally wake him up… he’ll know you! Why are you frowning like that?’ 

‘Well Sugar, I imagine it’s because she doesn’t want to effect the timelines. I’m guessing the girl he’s met doesn’t look too similar to the Natalia we know and love,’ Purred Rogue from next to him.

She nodded silently, looking down at her hands.

‘She’s the Black Widow after all, maybe not in position anymore but in memory that’s for sure.’

‘And always the liar it seems.’ Natasha said looking out to the moving landscape.

'I call bullshit on that,’ came Scott’s voice filtered to the back of the car.

Natasha’s head snapped to attention. ‘It was a moniker you wore like a badge of shame, the same badge your mom wears if she hears the name Phoenix. It’s a moniker of woe a justification to beat yourself up about the bad and dangerous things you've done in your lives. It’s a wonder the soul stone choose you both. It’s a wonder two cosmic entities somehow think I’m qualified in helping the both of you. A simple mutant, huh. But I’ll continue doing my best.’

Dad’s eyes were still locked on the road, but Natasha could tell every so often he offered both her mom and herself looks of adoration. ‘You are not your motto my Natalia, not anymore. You’re my daughter and besides possibly being the most powerful mutant in the world. An amazing astounding person, who’s trying like a lot of people: to save the world. Remember that, and all the bad things you have to do because guess what you’re fallible , and what you do and done will seem less poignant to the woman you’re becoming.’ 

Her old man, what else could she do but offer him one of her beautiful smiles.

‘Thank you, papa.’ She whispered.

It was a shame he couldn’t wink, swapping his ruby quarts visor for a somber pair of ruby quart lined sunglasses, but she knew him well enough to feel the effect.

‘Anytime minha Natalia. Oh, and we’re here by the way. Look sharp, I hope you all know what you’re doing, especially you Bucky.’

They’d rolled in front of a plot of land as manicured and maintained as the Xavier gardens Ororo worked on with the help of mom and herself. Azaleas, tulips and white roses spotted the Stark burial plot. Despite the crisp winters air those flowers had fought for survival under the sheet of snow they’d ultimately be buried by.

Natasha opened the door to the weak winters sun trickling into the car to tell Bucky over her shoulder — ‘Sometimes I wish Steve was here to tell me if what I’m about to do is sound of mind.’

'What stops that thought though?’ He breathed.

‘My growing belief in myself, now come along Mr. Barnes, Miss Pryde and Miss Devereux are looking for a handsome hand to lead them to the crowd of mourners. They have to somehow look stunning against this sad day.’

He really was handsome, if a ten-year-old Natasha in the Red Room could note such a thing (it being her first exposure to the beauty of an American man). An seventeen-year-old one, could do the same thing. He’d trusted her enough with a razor in hand, with the help of mom conjuring memories of Steve and his sister to mind to serve as distractions, to rid him of his hideous overgrown beard. 

Clean shaven you could easily be drawn to his wicked blue-grey eyes and strong jawline. It was a pity, through that in the next hour, Tony may end up wailing on those chiseled features.

She sighed, turned away, shoving her hands into the lining of her winters jacket.

* * *

‘There was no other man like Howard Anthony Stark, when I was a young boy, it was very easy to pluck him from a row of my admirables. Charismatic, jovial and brilliant were a few of the ways to describe him, at least the version he offered to me. Because of course we have a tendency of crafting ourselves around the needs and wants of others. We don’t always do a great job of it.’ And for a fracture of time Charles Xavier’s gaze landed on Tony.

‘But it’s the effort and love that we wear and should always wear as a badge of honour in our efforts and pursuits that forever hold. We will always try and honour this man and his wife by his scientific measure. But for once let’s remember this boy and girl for who they were: two kids celebrating their time and memories together and the child they brought into the world. This is somewhat more than Maria and Howard Stark— their legacy, a living embodiment of their generosity sits before us. Let’s us clap too for Mr. Anthony Stark, the child of science and joy.’

Professor X raised his flute of wine, as did everyone else in the room. But her eyes drew to one figure —throwing back the wine and picking up an accompanying glass of Mai Tai.

Natasha had known Anthony Edwin Stark for all her life and a bit — the bit accounting for her past life. She had admired him, hated him and briefly pitted him, but never had she thought about vilifying him. Even with what happened between he and Steve.

But this man pushing through into his early thirties looked worse for wear than the egotistical millionaire who'd eventually sobered enough to don the title of: Iron Man. 

‘The next seven years cannot come quicker, the face of death will do him some good,’ muttered mom. While Professor X shot her a cool look, Natasha couldn’t help but agree with mom.

‘Too bad I didn't merge with the time stone, then I could speed up things.’ Natasha muttered.

Her gaze followed the willowy frame of a pretty strawberry blonde spied across the room—dressed in a plush purple that brought out her lightly freckled skin. Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts offered a small smile as she crossed the room, to subtly pluck the newest beverage Tony thought he could down.

The party of civilians and shield operatives began to mingle leaving the dinner table to the open hall of the Stark Manor. Natasha leaned against the wall, holding a glass of lemonade—wishing for several shots of vodka. Bucky had been commandeered by a pretty aging lady and sandwiched between Ororo. She smirked.

She saw Reed Richards talking lively between mom and dad who animatedly returned his enthusiasm. She liked the man, who was willing to show her fractures of his soul. He was a smart guy then, you didn’t meet a lot of men willing to shield themselves from her pretty green eyes.

She thought back to the procession and how she rested sunflowers— Steve’s mother’s favourite flowers on each of the Starks' grave. She'd held back and told them a bit about what Steve may become. She looked around now wishing Jarvis would come and offer her a hot chocolate with a dash of Bailey’s and offer her a conspiratorial wink. But he had passed not too long after the Starks. All that was really left of that generation was Tony’s godmother and Bucky. Time had not been very kind on either of them— oh and Steve, still frozen and silent to the world.

‘I could really do with some Asgardian mead or better yet fresh air right now.’ She spoke to herself. 

Tony swayed to her side with a wide smile plastered on his face, it could be argued he was rather handsome, all for the stench of alcohol drenching him. Natasha did little to conceal her disgust as he flung an arm over her shoulder and drew her close to his side. Dropping a sloppy kiss to her forehead he slurred: ‘Good to see you here little Natalie. Though wait a minute, little, might not be the right word for it anymore.’

He was drunk, sad and acting like a jerk and with all these factors ringing true, Natasha restrained herself enough to knock his arm from her shoulder.

She half hummed and scoffed when he next said: ‘I was just pointing out the obvious Natalie.’ Then he nodded his head towards Bucky standing with his back to Tony. ‘I see you finally brought a date with you— funny way to introduce your new boyfriend. It’s not exactly a joyous occasion, what happened to Christmas or Thanksgiving?’

‘He’s not my boyfriend.’ She said in a high falsetto that did little to affect his alcohol induced mind.

‘Good.’

‘But very not interested. I can’t hold up to all those girls always ready to throw themselves at you. You wouldn’t need me or the pretty strawberry blonde leagues and bounds better than you for the moment. Not when you haven’t even tried to fix yourself up yet. Let’s face it I’m just a distraction from the truth.’

‘And what’s that Natalie.’ He said in a honeyed tone.

They always did this, the funeral memorial always started him off, and the dinner always finished him off. He came to her because she never stood for his bullshit, he needed someone to fight with: and his mind wasn’t on the bad guys yet. He was aimless and perhaps what she was about to do would be good for his growing alcoholism and ire.

‘You know you’re a mess and there’s very little you want to do to fix it. I can’t believe Aunt Peggy would leave you like this — but you’ve been great at lashing out at everyone even before your parents passing. You’ve always had some chip on your shoulder acting like Pepper, Aunt Peggy, Uncle Reed, Professor Xavier haven’t given you love and affection. This day is and has always been an excuse. Don’t forget, I’ve seen you’re eyes handsome, I know what that soul of yours has to say.’

Fury performed runs down his frame as he shook with anger. He would not hit her. It was an unspoken promise, he’d spoken to himself, and he’d showed her when she looked into his soul.

Bucky however was not blessed with such foresight. He appeared at her side, growling: ‘You’re drunk, pissed off and a mess Tony! It’s not a good look. And you’re walking around with this woe is me persona on your shoulders like someone fucked up your life. And taking it out on Natasha is no way to go about it. If you’re going to attack someone let it be me!’

Panicked eyes latched onto Bucky as Tony’s attention drew to his new victim; ‘What?’ he snarled.

‘Through the haze believe me you’ll remember this and I know you will. Being that drunk is piss poor but don’t take it out on one of your long-suffering friends.’

‘Bucky.’ She wined in a soft voice that travelled through the quiet room.

‘You look familiar, and did Nat just call you— wait they have a mural of you in the Smithsonian and Aunty Peggy—’

‘Peggy…. She’s here? Damn.’ He spoke in a low voice, before gulping down his fear and embracing his stupid riotousness. ‘I didn’t have much control when it happened, and yet I can’t say I don’t remember what happened. It was a night like tonight, dusted with a similar amount of snow. And the frost did little to affect me, but the two of them wouldn’t feel it, with the pain of the –'

Tony rammed into Bucky, who put up little an excuse to fight as they crashed into one of the buffet of food.

‘You son of a bitch ‘he cried and screamed at the same time, over and over again. Interlaid with: ‘How dare you come here! And think some apology could possibly—'

Bucky did not raise a hand in defense as Tony made it his mission to pummel the shit out of her friend. Now she had an idea what transpired when Tony had found out the truth in their original timeline. The fracture of emotions that had eventually built up between Steve and Tony, only to be broken had been one of the catalysts to their demise and minor failure when the Mad Titan finally showed his face.

Natasha snatched up one of the round food holders from a server. Dashing the food on the floor, and held it like a make shift shield. Making this change did not mean that Tony and Bucky could/ should or would become best friends. But building a repair for the loose threads of time and the soul she had an advantage of peering into, was the least she could offer.

At first, she tried to pull Tony off, ignoring Reed Richards shout of: ‘Don’t he’s not in the right frame of mind.’ Very true, and she could have asked either her mom or professor X to subdue him with their telepathy. But Tony, knowing him as she did. Physical interactions were sometimes the soundest form of expression to ring true.

He pushed her hard as she tried, smacking her against the wall, encouraging a chorus of shocked voices. Natasha ignored the scandal she was making – by bringing Bucky here and the pain shooting through her side at not purposely defending herself— could now appreciate Steve’s use of a shield. She could have been in a lot worse pain.

‘Natasha,’ moaned Pepper, trying to incept her from breaking the fray. She seemed torn between allowing Tony to seek out his revenge and ending the madness.

Natasha fainted to the left and came from the right calling back to the strawberry blonde: ‘the security you’ve called for are going to take too long.’

She tapped Tony on the shoulder, he turned to her with wild eyes, intoxicated by rage and alcohol: ‘Did you know.’

She served Tony with a thrust of her shied ramming it into his face while causing his unbalance. 

‘I didn’t count on Bucky’s guilt clouding his flight or fight responses. Well, shit, maybe I don’t know him as well as I thought.’

‘We’re meant to be friends. We’ve known each other since we were kids, why would you do this?’

‘For the future,’ she breathed.

Before punching him in the face, knocking him clean out. Seeming to calculate his descent she dashed to his aid, her knees buckled under his dead weight and she wore a mask of relief when Happy and Reed Richards came to her aid. Pepper, wonderful Pepper wore a look of pity and regret staring between Tony and Bucky.

Natasha brushed the smear of blood up her face as she glared at her two idiots, hearing the hiss of: ‘Natalia,’ from Mom. 

She knew events from the future, and it was a shame she couldn’t shape them completely to her control. Civilians and Shield intelligent officers were scattered around the room, she felt the latter begin to move in closer— she threw a covert look around the room, sensing each level of threat they offered and how ready she was to risk exposure for Bucky.

The sound of heels signalled the entrance of someone that brought the hairs on the back of Natasha’s neck up, but following the well-trained routine of the once renowned Black Widow, a stoic expression borne on her face to match her tone: ‘Hey, Aunty Peggy, nice to see you again.

But of course, she couldn’t hold Peggy’s attention when a ghost from her past looked up from the floor up at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I thought this would be the end of the past chapters and then we could move onto the actual MCU timeline, but it looks like another chapter is needed to round off most things. I have introduced Reed Richards a lot earlier than planned. But it seemed natural to be honest.
> 
> I had to bring in Godmother Peggy, it seems a crime she was not introduced in the actual MCU, it just makes sense. In the next chapter you see a lot of the groundwork concerning Natasha's involvement in Shield and the avengers establishment.
> 
> I know Natasha may seem a little OC, but she is a Natasha raised with the love and care of a family from the beginning. I think it will be interesting to see how she handles the dichotomy of her relationships between Tony and Bucky, juxtaposed to how Steve handled it.
> 
> Talking about Steve - I had to talk about him, more than in just in a memory, they needed a way to see each other without that torturous seventy year wait time.  
And Peggy and he will be addressed too  
I think for sure, more use of the X-Men will be employed as well as Hydra too.
> 
> Thanks for reading,
> 
> Kudos, Bookmark and subscribe please.
> 
> Greekgeekable


	5. Tony

Chapter Five

December 16th 2001

Long Island, New York

Tony

“Lie to me by the moonlight. Do a fabulous story.”   
― **F. Scott Fitzgerald**

He’d always had his suspicions. What kind of parents encouraged their child to learn ballet and jujitsu within an hour’s break of the activities.

He’d never seen her dance or really fight, but he’d received the task of it today. It was salty and acrostic. He licked his tongue over the source of blood he’d scouted out.

He froze for a moment, slowly and caustically opened a single eye: to stare back into a curious gaze and observe Natasha’s cool figure standing not too far from the pair.

Pepper looked a vision in purple, he’d told her, as he often did, to buy something from him — “a nonsensical claim.” Natasha often commented under her breathe, a distinct look of distain on her brow.

Her calm blue eyes sweep over him, as she bit back to Natasha with her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze — rude, he thought — locked onto the window beside them. ‘And you’re sure he’ll be okay. It’s not like you’re a doctor.’

Natasha blinked back to life, with a small shrug, ‘But Uncle Reed is, and he agreed with my assessment.’

‘Of astrophysics. Surely, Natasha, now is not the time to joke about such things.’

Natasha sauntered closer to him, drawing away from the window seal. Her shapely form built to draw you in, and he was more so sure, built to break you apart.

Her tongue followed the buildup of blood on her face. And a frisson of shame sparked in him, as he tried to push himself up from the sofa. A strong weathered hand, however, pushed him down. He looked rather scandalised to Aunt Peggy.

She’d been a known beauty in her day, and still wore her signature red lipstick. Hard hitting, no nonsense, she stared at him with worried and imploring eyes.

He had a bad feeling as his gaze passed over the Grey-Summers', Professor X and Reed Richards tucked in a united corner. It was evidence by their avoidant gazes that someone was “hiding there you murderous arsehole. You foul piece of shit!’ He roared.

They filled the guest living room, large enough to create a sizeable distance between the two opposing parties.

Natasha despite every lick of her lip, had a bubble of blood appear at the side of her mouth.

His hand twitched to clean it, a sense of disgust washed over him when he reminded himself the only reason such a thing was there was because of him.

‘Stop it,’ she spat, cool, coarse and deadly caustic.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood up, but he prevailed on: ‘He killed my mom and dad! And you want me to not just want to kill him! For god’s sake Natasha! What kind of Nazi sympathy— ‘Tony flew against the wall with a loud crack that sounded in the room.

Shaking hair out of his eyes, he watched as the normal green caste to her eyes illuminated a blue. Her arm remained raised as she looked back to his small family he’d made refuge with: Pepper shrieked — appalled shock and horror grasped upon Natasha, Happy watched her bug eyed and Aunt Peggy — well... she fucking hmmed, and turned to Jean and Scott: ‘I’m supposing she inherited this from one of you?’

The guilty party lazily raised her hand — ‘And this was a result of some serum or ...’Peggy began.

‘Genetic default.’ Growled Logan, tucked in a corner. He scanned Natasha with encouraging eyes.

Tony’s hand flew to his throat pulling against the invisible set of hands, in an attempt to release himself.

‘I’m completely sound of mind, thank you.’ She answered ... aunt Peggy, her red hair an enigmatic contrast with her electric blue eyes. ‘I just need your godson to watch his tongue.’

Tony crumbled to the floor in an ungrateful heap.

‘I heard that,’ she said to Happy— with dangerous eyes. A word rhyming with itch must have passed through his mind.

‘Natasha, ‘Tony rasped, colour dancing between her name, beautifying interest that was swiftly squashed, when she pinned her brilliant eyes on him and refused to look away.

‘You’ve always been my best target, Tony. For a guy who hates hugs and affection, cited how Howard caused the greatest fuck up that was, with never giving you your dues. You always made it a habit to look me in the eyes.’

She was perhaps a couple inches shorter than himself, and shock ran through his body as she cupped his cheek with a spare hand. Her other combed through his hair, it could easily be cited an action of romance.

‘I’m tired of all your thoughts, all your accusations. Do you even know what happened to Bucky, why he ended up like this … of course you don’t you haven’t even considered it?’

'Don’t read my mind…’ he growled.

Natasha snorted— ‘I’ve never had to read your mind Tony, you’ve always wanted someone to give you attention and care— you just have a bad habit of opening up your soul to me. And now, would be a good time to show you the truth. Look at me Buck… and then everyone will see your truth.’

Bucky slid past her parents, bruises peppered him from head to toe. His beautiful blueish-grey eyes did not falter or hesitate.

‘Nat.’ began Bucky, his voice dancing with worry.

Natasha simply smiled before saying: ‘Don’t freak out too much.’ And dissolved. 

Tony yelled and Aunt Peggy screeched, but what was more concerning was how Logan and Rogue reacted. Rogue ran to the spot her friend disappeared from and threw at Professor X: ‘Where is she!’

Logan stormed to Scott and gathered him up by the shirt collar: ‘Summers, what’s going on! What did you do to little red.’

A wave of power flowed through room, knocking Logan off his feet. ‘Jean!’ Logan growled.

'Do not touch him like that.’ Rung Natasha voice, as specks of glowing dust popped into existence.

‘So, this is the power of the stone.’ Breathed Reed to Jean, who simply nodded.

Tony tried to snatched the microbes of Natasha, that swirled around the room, building up and shaping a scene around them, illuminated with a slight green ethereal glow.

* * *

Tony opened his eyes to find the fluttering of snow settling on the crisp thicket of woodland exterior. He could hear the faint array of tire wheels skidding around corners.

While Tony hadn’t decided to move, more so, knew little concerning his environment, he began crunching the snow and trekked south.

What the hell is this he wondered, why am I out here.

He worked to open his mouth and call out for Natasha or Pepper, but his lips would not part. He moved his arm to his mouth feeling a mask covering over it. 

He also noted his hair seemed to have grown several inches, but he’d never had it to his shoulders, even as a teenager. Howard had often looked down at that as an experience.

Again, he tried to call for Natasha, noting an elk darting a weary look his way before leaping away.

The thick buildup of trees were dissipating, it must be around November or December time. From the buildup of lights scattered on the approaching road.

Maybe he’d passed out, drunk out his mind in the woods. But Dad would have killed him, and he’d never remembered a time, or was reminded of a time this could have happened. 

He tried once more to call for Natasha, a coarse scream that did not filter from his throat.

And he knew it had to be cold, evidence from the snow fall, and the people wrapped up sparingly he observed passing in their cars. But he felt nothing.

Instead of calling for help, he ducked behind a couple of trees and sunk into a bed of snow, pulling from its hold, a snipper gun.

What the fuck was he doing.

An age may have passed, but the release of the trigger went off, and he may have jumped, but the body, he was inhabiting watched with blank grandeur as the car spiralled off the main road and contacted the thick base of a tree.

His movements were casual, lackadaisical, as he got to his feet. His movements were devoid of his usual swagger, though. It was slow and calculated.

Two figures sat in the front seat. He saw his metallic arm wrench the car’s door open

Everything about the situation was artic. He did not want to do this!

He recognised his victims, his parents as he cocked the gun towards Maria first, shaking under the chilled veil of fear. Untouched eyes grazed over her as he dropped the gun to his side in a swift movement. Aptly pulling out a small switch blade. Tony has little control over his actions, as he watched too green eyes with flecks of blue in them, stare back at him. His mother had grey eyes.

He watched as she transformed before his eyes, to Natasha. Staring passively back at him, her hands placed demurely on her lap. Waiting, just waiting.

He was fighting against events that had occurred, that for the form of reality, just was, but even still. He had to, fight against the will to plunge the knife into her chest.

But as his hand moved slowly to her chest, an image of Edward Scissorhands came to life. The insertion was like a curator’s playground, what would her blunt scream meant to him once he nicked her right artery. The spray of blood little to unnerve this body.

Turning to his father was an even visceral nightmare. Because what was he expected to see, similar brown eyes had been replaced with a blueish- grey hue and long waves replaced his steel grey hair. Bucky stared back at the Winter Soldier with apathetic acceptance.

Tony tried to wrench the gun away from his blank eyes. But the damage was coming and when it came and the blood splattered his stoic face — only then was he returned full reign of his actions.

He violently shook from head to toe, his eyes growing to the size of fine china. He ran — all the while Bucky— the true recipient— of this body’s thoughts pounded in his skull.

Bucky: Jesus Christ... no ... no... it couldn’t ... please Jesus ...

Tony felt a brush of tears streak down his face as he found a tree to anchor himself against, as sobs broke through his mouth.

A small pair of feet peaked their way into view: he looked up to find a very intact Natasha waiting patiently for him. She offered a delicate hand, for what may have been the first time, Tony registered how skinny her wrists were.

‘Every time?’ he whispered.

She cut him a sideways look before shrugging. As he watched the teardrop of blood blossom in the corner of her mouth.

* * *

Tony fell to his hands and knees, his entire frame a spasm of shook. Hands, delicate pairs scrambled across his back and face. Pepper’s pretty blue eyes bore into his own, her drowned voice rung in his ear: ‘Tony! Tony, are you okay! Where the hell did you go — Natasha! Where the hell is she? ‘She snapped violently towards her parents.

Tony looked up sharply, noting the nausea in his stomach, Jean wore a look of woe as Scott also assuring Bucky to his feet, looked on worriedly to the spot she disappeared from.

‘She’s coming.’ Jean noted in a mournful voice and then to professor X: ‘she’s taking longer than usual...’

He nodded, his worry glistened in his eyes too: ‘Simply because she took more passengers with her this time.’

‘What the hell are you talking about, and what the hell do you mean by more passengers — is Natasha the SSR Titanic or something. Tony, where did you go!’ Implored Happy at this side, looking from his friend to Aunt Peggy.

She looked back towards the Grey- Summers' with a new akin for interest.

To watch have watched her scatter into a million, maybe a trillion particles was something else to witness but more so admirable. To watch her reform, under the cluster of an ethereal green glow, was everything.

She sat on the floor, legs drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees. Her open eyes glowed: burned with the soft licks of an intense flame.

Jean and Professor X levelled states at her, enough for Aunt Peggy to motion his attention by drawing him away from her.

He jolted, like he’d received an electric shock. he jumped to his feet attempting and failing to measure the act of her sacrifice(s).

He remembered something Aunt Peggy had once told him — “A strong woman will be build herself up, not because of lack of support of a man. But all her love and attention should be focused on herself before anything can be given.” 

How many times had Natasha done this for him, without his conscious knowledge. The first night he’d had to take in their loss, the sight of their bodies lying flat on the morgue table — asked to identify their corpses — having his dreams, his nightmares had been unbearable to process. But she appeared even now with closed eyes austere. 

Was she the source behind the images of a metallic suit, bold colour choices of red and bronze peppered in between his nightmares for years?

It had been easy to presume Professor X or Aunt Jean had been the source generators of such a kindness. But watching Natasha sway to life, complete and whole. Her eyes still closed, he could not fathom what pain she put herself through, to absolve him of further trauma.

He slowly shuffled towards her with careful steps, he brushed past Pepper’s tentative hand, her eyes sang of a brief call of warning. Before he returned to his friend. She was so small and stood in a waif like manner, that was immediately jolted by the hand he placed on her shoulder. She radiated with heat.

One eye opened and slowly met his own chocolate brown pair. It’d always been easy to note her iridescent viridian held impossible flecks of blue in them. It was a known feeling her father couldn’t have passed them down. Like starlight, and know somewhat unsettling as she eyes sang back to him in the framework of that blue.

He’d never met someone with heterochromia. But her mismatched eyes stared at him, as she collected and reformed herself in more ways than seemed impossible.

‘Natalie.’ He whispered. Everyone had had a name for the red head, variations she’d answered to with that coy smile of hers, but the breath of Natalie on his tongue had caused an eruption of a smile he knew very clear — was reserved for him alone.

She’d been about six when she’d offered him, his smile and it’d had been a done deal. She’d been younger then, but the absence of the scene, followed with him turning worried eyes back to her parents.

Jean stared unblinkingly at her daughter, while Scott stared on, arms crossed over his chest, worry etched on his brow.

‘What’s she doing?’ Whispered Bucky, looking to Scott. He seemed to know by now Jean’s yard long stare came for a reason. A frisson of annoyance occurred in Tony, it had taken years to read the great Jean Grey-Summers, how was he able to read her like a canary?

‘Repairing our daughter.’ Came the husk of Scott’s Baritone. ‘I hate it, when she does this. And more especially, for you.’ Though he pinned his shaded glasses onto Tony, little accusation coloured his tone.

Tony didn’t want call it pity, because that totality would have pissed him off. But the Grey-Summers had always seemed to be somewhat intuitive towards his needs — emotions.

A brief brush of Scott’s large hand squeezed Natasha’s shoulder, before he gently placed both hands on his daughter’s shoulders, small words of encouragement seeped past his tongue: ‘Natalia, Natta, looking at me darling. Move your thoughts always from the cosmos and back to earth. Think of a worn-down stoop, and narrow apartment buildings. Think of a notch of arrows stored behind a broad back. ‘

Though the words were clear and poured into her, she did not take.

‘Shit.’ He cursed. ‘look at me Natalia Jean Grey Summers. When I found out Jean was pregnant. I was petrified. I was going to be a father, and you would be my child — it sounds like the set-up of some bad stage play. But I mean it. You were a terrifying miracle— now you don’t look much like me, thank god.’ He flashed a handsome smile — one photocopy of Natasha’s smile. ‘But what does that matter when I have the greatest gift in the world. A daughter who’d I’d like to have back now. Not the mutant or the host of some cosmic being. Just you.’

‘For a guy who often says he’s not very good with words, that was rather stellar ,’ input a strained voice. Natasha offered him a smile with her glorious green hue. She allowed her father to draw her into a tight hug she returned.

She found his gaze latched onto her own. Normally, Tony would have looked away, but Natasha wouldn’t allow him. She didn’t need to deploy any magical powers and mystic symbolism. His gaze followed her pain filled one, he staggered and then ran towards her back, to watch in horror the bullet wounds embedded in her back.

He swore loudly and fruitfully, something that finally awoken Aunty Peggy, who sent him a chastising look, before drawing her watch closer to her lips to spit orders.

‘Don’t.’ Snapped Jean. ‘just don’t bother.’ She called in a tired voice.

Jean slowly raised her skinny wrists seeming to move in time to some invisible melody, as the scream splintered all corners of the room. Natasha collapsed and Scott followed her descent.

‘What are you doing?’ Cried Aunt Peggy, unsure to action on her inaction.

Uncle Reed stood with a grimace of acceptance on his brow. ‘The weight of mutantnism.’

Charles Xavier appeared to wheel out of nowhere, but more so, caught his attention when he laid a reassuring hand on top of his shaking one.

‘You have suspected for a long time haven’t you, Tony. Questioned rightly, if I do say myself, our normalised persona. If there is one reassurance I can give you throughout this entire encounter you are facing, Natasha — ‘but whatever Prof had to say, was lost to him as he threw his arms around Natasha .

A beat of silence rung in the room before a soft voice touched his ear.

‘Ton...Tony.’ She spit through gritted teeth. ‘you have to move, Mama is just pulling out the bullets, is all.’

How the hell could she be so calm about this?

‘Natalie.’ He breathed.

‘Give me the hug you owe me in a bit, Tony. But please ... move away.’

It’d be an impossible task to complete, what monster could honestly leave her in that position.

So, he hovered close enough and watch the screw like removal of the bullets. And watch his friend curl further into her pain.

‘Is this every-time? Is this what you do?’ He yelled, ignoring Bucky and Pepper’s scandalised faces.

‘Tony...’ began Pepper in admonishment.

But he waved her away. ‘For me?’ He threw at her, heat flooded his cheeks. ‘Oh ... why, why would you do that Natalie.’

She got shakily to her feet, with the help of his firm guidance. She had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, he’d seen them handful of times, and took advantage of the sober contrast, now he had a better understanding of their content.

* * *

December 17th, 2001

Long Island, New York

Natasha

They weren’t going to be best friends, she noted nursing a deadly hangover and hot coco. Bucky and Tony had created their distances, watching her with careful eyes in their own comfortable chairs.

She'd napped for about a good thirty minutes, much to her mom’s horror. But the stone had enough decency to detect and alert her if any shrapnel, stayed embedded in her body.

She scanned the room, moving to Pepper hoovering protectively over Tony, eyes so easily read by the host of the soul stone. Natasha looked away with a dull muted flush to her cheeks — she missed Steve and stupidly enough what they never had, and it hadn’t escaped her. The possibility of never having him. But that was for another time, thought and place.

The lick, the need, the emotion inaction of not guzzling or downing an entire bottle of vodka was so palpable, that the thought almost, almost dulled the blunt bump, bump of pain coursing through her .

‘What.’ She slurred, blinking away nausea.

It was always a shitty side effect of absorbing someone’s soul. Linking and exposing the ‘rabbit hole’ to their source of trauma to an entire room of people. All their symptoms became your own. Unlike Rogue, she still had the ability to touch people, actually Natasha was the only person Rogue could touch with no fear of her powers affecting the latter.

But now, absorbing Tony’s rage and turmoil, that was okay. But the alcohol content even for her was too much. She wasn’t really a rebellious creature— what was the point when she’d experienced most stupid teenage acts of idiocy.

But this: ‘is bullshit, Tony Stark. You better learn to like the tastes of vodka and tequila. Fucking Ale,’ she spat in the blurred direction of her source of ire. ‘bourbon is infinitely better.’

‘Is this the correct thing to be doing, Natasha. You’re not very cognitive. It’s a very big decision to be making, ‘said Aunty Peggy, following on from their earlier thread of conversation, creating soothing circles on the back of her hand.

She waved a dismissive, non to reassuring hand across Peggy’s face.

‘Really don’t worry, first she’s Russian. She can handle her liquor. But more importantly, she’s happened to have absorbed Tony’s alcohol intake.’ noted Dad, on her right, serving as a fitful cushion.

She made a face at the feeling of a vibrating sensation.

He chuckled lightly running a hand like he did when she’d been sick through her tendrils of red curls.

Natasha nodded, something that could be thought to be a dangerous decision.

She blanched before belching, she saw Bucky offer her funny look that caused a snort to escape her. It was such a 1940’s look of wonder— a look she was happy to affirm, solidified her next decision.

‘I want to join your organisation Aunty Peggy, I want to be an Shield Operative.’

Aunt Peggy, of course she knew who she was, more so what she represented. It had been a bit of a shock to be introduced to Captain America’s .... almost at the age of five, with her comely brown eyes and adorable British accent. But she could see what had drawn Steve to her, it was what made it so easy to stretch out a hand to the older woman a squeeze her hand.

Silence rang like the crash of a cymbal — the ringing stung everyone’s ears as painful expressions faced her, bar mom and dad— always somewhat prophetic.

‘I beg your pardon, Natasha. Is that a wise decision, with your condition ...’ began Aunt Peggy, until Natasha pinned her with a gimlet stare.

‘Do you not ....’

‘It is not a question of if I trust or believe in you. You are as recklessly selfless as a solider from Brooklyn I knew. You often remind me of him ... I’m simply concerned about your safety, little Natalia.’

Natasha smirked, they were roughly the same height.

‘In eleven short years, your once great love, the one they’d say nowadays, got away, Steven G Rogers will be retrieved and thawed out of the ice. The technology will be available to you, and the man out of time will join Shield. No one bats an eye. But more importantly, sure there will always be some grumbling when a Natasha joins.’ She offered her a coy smile. ‘But I don’t think anyone had heard of Natalia Alianovna Romanoff an Ex tool of the KGB, former soviet slave to her country. ‘

She could feel the licks of her parents heated gazes on her now. She slowly pushed herself to a sitting position, lovely eyes finding each pair that had raised and cultivated her. She gently took her mom’s hand and squeezed it gently: ‘This isn’t even a goodbye. You can’t possibly say goodbye to Natasha Grey-Summers. But no one’s going to think or enquiry about the validity of my claim , or even “god forbid” imagine a Russian spy could be a mutant .’

‘Natasha,’ began Professor X, wheeling himself to her front. His weathered comely gaze sparked with approval. ‘It is an intuitive decision. But I think we both know when the time comes and we need Natasha Grey-Summers, and the call comes .... we will/ can call on you — oh, Jean don’t worry too much. Think of it like college, she’ll visit us during the holidays and weekends. We’ll still be her family. She’ll mirror to a higher degree the life and persona of her original timeline — covert and ...’

But Mom pulled her hand from Natasha and made her way to the exit, blinking furiously. Natasha scrambled after her, pausing to watch Jean’s exchange with Bucky, the words: ‘look over her, please,’ rung in her thoughts.

Mom disappeared around a corner, and Natasha followed on hot pursuit. She brushed past both Bucky and Tony, who wore twin looks of shock on their faces. They wouldn’t know though, that the decision she’d chosen to make would be for the better in the long run.

In the Stark Manor, Natasha has always had a favourite room, the expansive corridor of baseball memorabilia. Howard had been a big fan— or rather, Steve had , and subjected Howard on the rare occasions he’d felt brave enough to talk about, was a room of honour.

Mom slumped down under the rather copy of an ordinary baseball, inscribed with Steve’s sloppy cursive.

She felt less hungover now and slightly more cognisant.

She scrambled to grab Mom’s hand, Jean did not fight her and offered a lame hand in return.

‘When you were young, I couldn’t understand for the life of me, why you were so enamored with this spot, more less this place. It was a wonder to watch you open up. I was wonder to realise you’d chosen to block me out. You’d never done that before.’ Jean cast soft eyes on her daughter. ‘You hid something from me, it was almost inconceivable. ‘

Natasha took time to study every line that made up Jean Grey- Summers solemn expression. There was very little she’d picked up from her sire. She began creating circles on the back of her hand an almost apology.

‘And like all little girls you had a celebrity crush. Just, how was I expected to know it’d be Captain America. And when I knew it’d be him I’d be competing with, concerning your love. Did I ever stand a chance? ‘

Natasha nodded.

‘You almost told me what you felt, what you knew, when you felt me poking in the back of your head. But he was the living legend and in moments I just felt like Jean Grey.’

‘That’s not a bad thing.’ Natasha murmured. ‘Sometimes it’s nice to just remember you’re only human.’

Linking her hand with mom’s and giving it a small squeeze, she said: ‘You’ll always be my mom. No one can or will take that from us. Not even me, the soul stone knew I’d need you. And you’ve proven why every day! I love you.’

She hadn’t been a real fan of the three-word phrase and passed them out sparingly even now. But it was a pleasure to be absorbed by mom.

‘I guess for now this is goodbye Natalia Grey-Summers. But your ass better make Thanksgiving, Christmas and your father and I’s anniversary, am I clear.’

A watery chuckle exploded from Natasha’s mouth as she nodded, 89% sure that was all Tony’s intoxicated ass’ fault for all this emotion. 

* * *

Spring, 1943

Camp Lehigh, New Jersey

‘Miss Grey - Summers.’ Came the rushed whisper, ‘What! What are you doing — have you been hurt?’ Came the rushed familiar voice. A Brooklyn accent tickled her ear, as a light touch tried to shake her awake.

She batted it away with a groan, the voice softer than Bucky’s. ‘Miss Grey-Summers please wake up. The general does rounds and will wonder how I managed to convince a beautiful dame like yourself to come to bed with me. When we haven’t even left the site, yet. Miss — ‘

A hand flew over Steve’s mouth, petite, slender and delicate. Natasha tasseled awake, her abundance of curls dark as midnight due the lack of light. She pinned him with glorious eyes and offered a tired smile.

‘I’ve never heard a man complain about a “dame” sleeping over before,’ she whispered, her arm propped up supporting her check.

He blinked up at her, unable to draw himself away.

‘Do you think I dreamed you here?’

‘Why do you say that Steve?’

‘Tomorrow’s the day ... oh right you won’t know ..., Bucky doesn’t even know. But you’ll be the first to know, I’ve been picked, I’m going to be one of the first of Erskine’s super soldiers. I’ll be able to help people.’

‘Like you do already?’

He hesitated a moment to long because she punched his shoulder.

‘I’m sure he would have already said something like this : but keep that head of yours. Never Change.’

He nodded, as she slid out of his bed, feeling Steve’s eyes scrutinise her.

‘Are you sure you’re okay... who...’

She turned to him and offered a sad smile: ‘Myself, anyway I should be going , best of luck Mr. Rogers.’ She said offering him a kiss on his cheek. ‘stay safe.’

‘Always, Miss Grey-Summers.’

It wasn’t fair her last image of him for a while would be a frown simply concerned about her behalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi ! Sorry this took so long. I think... think this is the last of the past chapters for now. Please expect the main MCU timeline- in a sense to take place from now on. We got to experience a bit more of Natasha's powers in relation to the soul stone.
> 
> Is the likelihood of Civil War likely to occur, well timelines can change but emotions are always present.
> 
> Please if you have any questions, please comment, subscribe, kudos, bookmark below. 
> 
> All your love and support is seriously appreciated!
> 
> Greekgeekable


	6. April 15th 2012

Chapter Six

April 15th 2012

New York, New York

Natasha

Natasha Romanoff knuckled blood from the side of her face as she simultaneously picked up her cellphone: the curl of an accent flowed from her lips — ‘Romanoff speaking, how can I help?'

She waited a beat, staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror she used to clean herself up in. She could cover her smarting eye with some concealer, the various cuts peppered her lips would have to do— while she could accelerate her healing factor. Ex KGB Red Room operative Natasha Romanoff was not the same thing as Natalia Grey-Summers; and to be quite honest she missed that woman a lot.

‘Natalie!’ Hollered an all too familiar voice, she witnessed her lip twitch before she answered her idiot childhood friend.

‘Mr. Stark, as I said before, how may I be of help?’

She could feel him wrinkle his nose. ‘Man, Natalie, even now. Are you out in public? Damn I always catch you when you’re with people, you know sometimes a guy calls up their female childhood bud just to talk ... ask future advise favours and what not. And instead of my cool red head, I get the militant Russian official.’

Natasha let out a small sigh as she squashed the phone closer to her ear and unclipped her hair from the bun she’d placed it in, earlier for an assignment.

Her breathing relaxed as more air filtered through her lungs when she spoke: ‘I’m in a toilet actually, it’s the 15th and it’s time for Aunt Peg’s medication. If it’s real important or better yet, if you miss her that much could you call in ten mins?’

She heard a burst of laughter on the other side of the phone: ‘Eerie, Miss Carter, when did Nat hand over the phone?’ Tony asked his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Natasha shook her straight blonde hair and stared into a pair of brown eyes, she didn’t really own but often borrowed for days like these. The soul let you see various things: a person’s desires, their fears, their past and future decisions...or, for this instance borrow another’s appearance.

‘Very funny Ton, you’re lucky you’re on the other side of the phone, probably walking on that Malibu veranda of yours. Does my extended invitation still hold by the way?’ Spoke Sharon Carter, with Natasha Romanoff’s idiosyncrasies. She smoothed the pair of jeans she changed into and the Black Sabbath T-Shirt she was well aware Sharon would never be caught in, but Natasha really liked the top Tony had brought for her twenty second birthday.

She pushed the toilet’s door open, a bright smile was offered to one of the caretaker’s meandering the hallway. It was hilarious to watch heat rush up his cheek as he offered her a small smile in return.

‘Always Nattabutter; oh, and if you’re wondering what that was, that’s Happy asking when are you two going to go for a few rounds? Now we enter the living room — Pepper says Hi and says you’re somewhat dead to her because hello (I’m quoting here) when are we going on our next shopping exertion with Bobbi and Maria.’

Natasha turned down another corridor, drawing closer to her destination. ‘Don’t answer that, that’s a battle you and Pepper will have to have. My gripe is with a mutual pain in the ass of ours, tell Buck—’

‘Hold on a second Ton,’ she said stopping at an innocuous door, she knocked twice before saying very brightly: ‘Aunt Peggy, it’s me, Sharon. I’m just coming in okay?’

‘I never get why you have to do that?' commented Tony.

She opened the door, offering a blinding smile to the figure tucked under a white bedspread. The figure looked towards the once murky sky; offering her attention to the dissipating cloud formatting around the revealing setting of the sun.

For a moment Natasha forgot herself, staring at Aunt Peggy soaking in the sun’s rays. She remained watching Aunty Peggy absorbing her surroundings, before Aunt Peggy said with a quiver of her beautiful lips: ‘Nice of you to visit Natalia, though when we last spoke you said you’d thought of dying your hair, again?’

She cursed somewhat colourfully, quick chided Tony with a — ‘Call back in five, Man of Iron.’ Strolled into the room, closed and locked the door behind her. She caught a brief look at her reflection— her hair straight and blonde, her face that of another— good, she decided.

‘I caught myself in a memory — or a timeline... I forget,’ she said sounding the closest to whimsical she’d ever sound.

‘Uh huh, is that so. I must say your British accent is reaching leaps and bounds. I would love to say what do I owe the pleasure? But then again... I can feel it in my bones, and they are rather weak.’

‘You’re in luck then, I brought some medicine along,’ said Natasha scooping up her favourite cushioned chair, ignoring the scraping sound it made on the wooden floor. She collected her knees against the chest as she made herself comfortable, enjoying the amused expression on her aunt’s face.

Peggy reached and used her fragile, lined hands to collect Natasha’s in her own. ‘Was today meant to be a mere coincidence or did you know ... about Steve?’

If Natasha didn’t know any better, it would Aunt Peggy would sound like she was talking about some convoluted riddle. But creating soothing circles on the back of Aunt Peggy’s hand, she snapped her eyes to Peggy’s big brown eyes. They were the only set of features that had refused to age. It was fitting, she thought, Peggy had such wonderful eyes.

It was very easy to read those eyes, to fall into their pools, and for a moment Natasha was so enamoured by the hue of Peggy’s eyes. She did not register her tale-tale gasp of surprise as the room began to section off and break apart like a thousand-piece puzzle set, they often played together at Christmas. 

Aunt Peggy often offered up her soul in these instances rather quickly for Natasha to see and use— enabling her access to and for an easier and fluid gateway much like now for Natasha to create and shift the movement towards dimensional healing. 

They both stood in a brightly lit room, reliant on the flickering projector showcasing schematics of the Germany terrain and other once protected ally related work schemes. The curved work table that would once sit a younger Peggy Carter, Colonel Phillips, Howard Stark and of course… ‘I don’t do coincidences, you know me Aunt Pegs. Besides it’s the least I could do for Captain America’s Best Girl. Make sure she’s the healthiest and fittest she can be when Bucky and I bring him to meet you once he wakes up,’ said Natasha, who became very interested in the décor Peggy had conjured up in this version of the Soul World, artfully missing the tears trailing down the older woman's face.

Natasha snuck a look at her, a smile worked it's way on her lips, watching the faint green glow encompass her. Good the medication was working. In a pocket dimension there was a lot you could do ... like draw on the healing qualities of your sister stone : the time stone to repair some damage.

Natasha almost jumped when she felt strengthening arms wrap around her; she peered down at the top of Aunt Peggy’s head. The roots of her hair the pretty brown of nearly fifty years ago.

'So, we found him today, it's a day to celebrate. Do we wake him up too?’ she asked in a near whisper.

Natasha hummed, hugging like this felt like some macabre dance form, that brought a smile to her face— ‘Hey, you’ll be able to have that date of yours, remember… seventy years late, but our solider does keep his promises.’

‘Our solider?’ chuckled Peggy, pulling away from Natasha to reflect on the young woman Steve Rogers had offered his heart to; ‘you must have really dropped your guard, Grey-Summers’. This is the first time I think you’ve ever openly admitted your feelings for Steve.’

Natasha blinked back at Peggy, surprise creeping across her features. Though it felt refreshing to hear someone use her surname again, to be reminded once more who she was; and how all these cover stories, and personas were just that, she answered: ‘I am here-forth blaming everything on my dulling senses and the fact about two hours ago I was in Washington.’

‘Washington… I thought Nick said they'd agreed to send you to India?’

Natasha offered her a mischievous twist of her lips: ‘Oh they did, and I'll be going east … I just needed help from a doctor.’

‘Are you blushing little Natalia, does that mean you’ve finally found someone. But then again, Tony or Bucky, would have mentioned— why are you laughing like that?’

It was true, Natasha chuckled heartily, shaking her head; this was the most alive she’d felt for some time, except for the brush of moments she could spend time with: Bucky and Clint outside S.H.I.E.L.D, or with Tony and her family during the weekends. It was a passion to release Natasha Grey-Summers from her shackles – and she’d take full advantage of it.

‘You know as well as anyone I’m close to, or, better yet, let into my life: I don’t date. Something I brought along with me from my past life.’

‘You always say that… and I must say it worries me. How could someone so giving not feel worthy enough to receive in return. For heaven’s sake Natasha, not only are you almost thirty. Like many mother figures, we hope our offspring can find some form of companionship.’ Lines marred Peggy’s smooth brow. ‘You gave up your life for half the universe and may even have damaged your sanity by agreeing to restart your timeline to fix it, I think the least you deserve is some form of romantic reprieve?’ she huffed.

A sarcastic barb almost rolled off her tongue – a side effect of spending too much time with Tony: ‘Oh the humanity, what ever should I do, considering you figured out my greatest secret not too long ago.’

Well, she thought, she could restrain it. 

‘I may be Ninety – One years old Natalia Grey-Summers, that doesn’t mean either one of us are too old for me to spank you for that sass.’

Natasha admired her however, smiling at the threat. Peggy had been in her life for as long as Tony had. They were a package deal, that became more permeant after Howard and Maria’s deaths. A beloved fixture in Natasha’s heart who was by far more than Captain America’s Old flame, as she had once read about in her past life— after she’d asked Steve who the woman in the picture frame was in New Jersey.

Natasha gently hugged the older woman: ‘Pop my arse if you must, it means the treatments working very well.

‘Are you mocking me?’

‘No ma’am.’

‘So, about our solider,’ began Peggy again now leaning against the strategy table, patting the space beside her. ‘I don’t suppose this is your request for my permission to pursue him.’

Even if in this life time, Natasha was not raised by the Red Room, some training schemes just stuck, she expected heat to explode across her cheeks as she met Peggy’s gaze. But they both happened to stare at one another.

‘No, you’re not. Well that’s good. I wouldn’t want you to anyway .’

Natasha shifted next to her ‘Aunt’. It was only right to maintain eye contact: ‘Why is that?’ because it sounds like you’re giving me all the permission in the world to pursue Steven. G. Rogers.

‘I realised I had to let him go many many years ago, and while I am grateful to you, for nursing and maintain my health Natasha. I’m presuming in our original timeline, with or without an addition of superpowers from your part, I didn’t have many years left with him when he came back?’

Natasha dropped her gaze, shaking her head until she felt Peggy cup her cheek.

‘You really are such a beautiful soul. I’ve known you know, for years… and why you didn’t date. Why your eyes never seemed to light up with teenaged interest when the likes of Clint Barton, Leo Fitz, Grant Ward or that lawyer from Hell’s Kitchen showed clear intrigue towards you. I may have been Steve’s best girl back in the forties, but in that original timeline, if conscious or unconscious to him then, you were his modern-day best girl.’

Natasha’s lashes rapidly fluttered, staring at her crossed finger; as she pulled Peggy’s hand from her cheek ever so carefully— ‘Doubtful ... coming here today took a lot out of me. I think spending a lot of time with you does, really. I’ve never really had a romantic rival, I never let men close to me, even in my original timeline. Never let them fall in love with me. ‘she chuckled coldly. ‘I’ve given my heart to two people and it never works out something gets in the way: either the gamma radiated green guy or you.’ She offered to Peggy, slightly disappointed when she didn’t laugh back.

‘I never meant to fall for Steve, but I was stupid I’d been falling in love with him every day, I never thought it was possible— I knew it was stupid not because of my mantra, but even when I offered myself, he only wanted friendship. And so that’s all I could offer him. I think, no , no, I know I’m terrified . Terrified if I risk my heart again, that he won’t love me with everything he’s got.’

She looked at Peggy Carter, for what she’d always been: her silent love rival. Beautiful, classy and tough as nails, this woman had taught her how to dismantle and reassemble a gun with ease. Charm a man with a single red lipped smile. It was westernised, it wasn’t as subtle, but damn it was very effective.

Of course, Steve Rogers loved her, there seemed to be few little people they didn’t share mutual interests for.

‘In the end, he chose you. He went back to you in 1945, upturned the world and the space time continuum and I ... I ... have been dreading and hoping for this day for a whole lifetime.’

There was no Agent Peggy Carter starting at her with quivering eyes or Shield Director directing orders her way: An Aunt engulfed her and whispered: ‘I have no doubt he will fall for you all over again, be it, Natasha Romanoff or Natalia Grey-Summers. He will be a very lucky young man.’

Natasha looked up at Peggy Carter with tearful eyes, her lips quivering as she watched Peggy’s attention pulled away by fascination at the shifting landscape. ‘We’re returning to my default setting, I’ve been emotional compromised.’

The purple expanse of Vormir’s skies invaded their vision as they fell on rather hard rocky terrain.

‘ I have watched your sacrifice a thousand times if I can count that on my hand, an exaggeration sure, but, I can tell you one clear truth. He was stupidly in love with you and for the first time in living memory and thank goodness a non-recorded setting: I have to agree with the Red Skull, Steve has a habit of always been too late. Maybe this time we can change that huh?’

Natasha had curled into her Aunt’s chest. Listening to the rhythm of her breathing. Stronger and smoother, it was a blessing she could draw on the power of the time stone and repair parts of Peggy’s ageing frame.

‘Thank you. ‘she finally whispered. ‘But I also want you to know— keeping you alive, had a lot more to do than Steve being a motivating factor. In truth, I need you… I never had a family before and now it keeps on growing, I just couldn’t afford to lose you too… is all.’

They were silent for many a minute, when Natasha said sheepishly: ‘I need to examine your face by the way. But hey, stranger requests have been asked, right?’

She was pleased to watch Aunt Peggy roll her eyes as she swivelled to face her. ‘This reunion by chance you’ll be bargaining for, is it my birthday present you told Tony was too large to wrap in a box.’

‘Ahh, you do know me far too well, Aunt Pegs.’ Interrogating the slope of her nose, the shape of her cupid's bow.

‘Can I ask why I’ve become your sudden muse?’

‘This is arrogant of me to say, considering I wasn’t physically there when Steve woke up in our original timeline, but apparently Coulson suggested they could make him feel more at ease with his surroundings if he felt he was waking up in the forties. Being a sleep for seventy years and begin frozen is a hell of a lot to take in even for a super solider.’ It helped to watch the dent in Aunt Peggy’s brow, and remember to create a template of that expression too.

‘They'll use a girl who looks a lot like you, to initially placate him. But we have two things different this time: 1) Bucky.2) Me and my powers. I can’t bring him here and dress it up like a nineteen forties hospital, but I can project an image of you, his soul’s desire. Don’t worry to a normal observer, I will semi permanently dye my hair brown and put in some contacts, but visually to Steve I will look like you. If that’s okay? I will be the first line of defence if anything goes wrong and Bucky will be the second.’

‘To calm him down... but is it the best to lie to him. I think ... even with your powers, let him see the facsimile of me in you. The world is changing after all, we can’t go back — pun excluding you of course,’ she winked at Natasha. ‘But to begin helping him move forward, is to help him to let go of the past, maybe a new face can go a long way? ‘

‘A new ...’

‘Bucky is unavoidable and a new needed factor in helping Steve... he didn’t know how to acclimate. He has a friend, who has and will teach him. But maybe give him a new one, a pretty red-head spy whose got a killer way with guns, spatulas and loving others.’

‘If I say you’ve all finished up in an attempt to avoid my cheeks flaming what’s the likelihood of my arse getting popped for cheek again?’

Aunt Peggy smirked. 

* * *

April 15th 2012

New York, New York

Natasha 

It was 2018 and the world was dissolving around her. Clutching her abdomen from where she’d foolishly raced to Thanos after fighting with Okeye and Wanda against Proxima Midnight, she'd been swatted away like some fly. The chain of events, she knew were set to take place, would be worse than devastating. It was hard to hold onto devastating when in truth it was your reality.

She’d returned Aunt Peggy in her room some time ago, she recalled.

She sprinted towards her mark, a man in a battered stealth suit, his hair over grown, matted with blood. 

Aunt Peggy’s vitality an essence usually undetectable to even the likes of Professor X, had been smarting with vigour and power, when Natasha tucked her in. It hadn’t mattered much who’d dipped the kiss on Aunt Peggy’s brow— Sharon Carter or Natasha Romanoff, it wasn’t like both did not love the former Shield director any differently.

Something rattled through her bones, a geomatic shift perhaps of the tectonic plates, but then again maybe the mutant Natalia Grey-Summers would sense something like that. But Natasha Romanoff... she dived to her knees hovering behind Steve as his gaze remained focus on the figure in front of him. 

Natasha nearly blanched: Bucky lay battered on the ground head resting on Steve’s thigh, gasping for air . When he caught sight of her, pain exploded in her chest.

Her Bucky, in her new timeline, was wholeheartedly her own. Not much like the stranger in front of her in 2018, though in the space of five years she’d sacrifice herself. She'd never have enough time to get to know him.

Still she reached out a hand towards him, when he gasped in surprise: “Steve?”His jaw became slack and gaze unfocused, as cracks began to appear on his skin. Deep black flakes lined his face as he began to disintegrate in front of her. She staggered back as gasps seemed to travel through the thick thicket of the Wakandan expanse.

A thought pounded in her mind: “Wanda!” she cried. She’d probably broken a few ribs or fractured them and putting too much weight on a bad leg, but she ran towards were she could feel Wanda’s life force. She skidded to a stop watching the girl crumbling away holding her dead lover in her arms. It was a morbid thing to think: but she was such a beauty in her sorrow. Her tear stained gaze met Natasha’s as she whispered: “Don’t forget your promise...find us ...” 

* * *

‘Agent Romanoff,’ called a gentle voice, it was strong and deep and she turned to meet it, the bright expanse of the Wakandan sky focused in on a pair of grey-blue eyes.

‘Romanoff, you’re crying, are you okay?’

It was a chore having to be this unfamiliar with Level seven James Buchanan Barnes. He’d allowed her every fortnight to cut his shaggy brown hair, he’d need a trim soon she inspected. His brows knitted together as she realised she’d leaned against one of the offshoot corridors— how had he found her. Almost like he read her mind, he tapped his head.

‘I called you, like you told me. When I didn’t see you in the board room, you ‘re never late for anything, always exceptionally on time to everything. Can I just put in a petition to the owner of this body—’ he dropped his voice lower. ‘Hey Grey, it’d be really great if you could stop making the rest of us look bad. I’m a punctual person like the rest of — owh!’ He yelled as a lighting fast punch hit his shoulder.

‘Better?’

‘Better,’ she parroted. ‘Sorry for wigging out. The bigger the event to come, the more I get pulled into a fracture of my old timeline. Was I still physically here or did I just pop into existence?’

‘Are you flirting with me Romanoff?’

They set off together, Bucky offering imperceptible assistance with a hand covering her back. When she shifted through time randomly, it was like being uprooted from the stomach first. Uneasy footing and multiple counts of blinking accompanied the shift through time.

She returned a coy smile: ‘Haven’t you heard Barnes, you’re not my type, grow some more hair, some whiskers and become a bit cuter and I’ll be your new best friend.’

He roared with laughter, throwing back his head as they reached the boardroom. It always amazed Natasha how quickly he sobered up.

‘You ready for this?’ 

‘Last time I was in India when a discussion like this apparently took place, lead the way Serg.’

He offered her a drool look of disappointment, before opening the door— the comment of ‘such a gentleman,’ remained restrained on her tongue. It was a good thing too, she felt a sizeable amount of eyes rest on her.

Fury’s one eye seemed to weigh the heaviest on her as she and Bucky scooted along the table. Coulson, Bobbi Morse, Brock Rumlow (for some fucking reason), Nick Fury, Agent Thirteen, Jemma Simmons and Clint Barton already sat waiting for them

‘Romanoff, ‘offered Fury, Coulson and Simmons.

‘Nice of you to finally join us, Romanoff, what suffering from that hangover of yours?’ said Bobbi.

Natasha had the urge to rub her temples at her colleague, she almost felt bad for mentally paring Rumlow and Morse in the same league. But…

‘Highly functioning and thriving Morse. Have you got anything else for me?’ she slid into her seat, looking down the table to offer Clint a wink and Agent Thirteen a nod.

‘Morse, Romanoff, really leave workplace enmity for outside the work room,’ snapped Nick, eyeing Clint. While Bobbi looked somewhat quelled, Natasha's gaze strayed to Bucky who did little to hide his sniggering.

Unfortunately for Bucky, who sat too near her, suffered a case of her inheritance: a bony elbow. A gasp of surprise filtered past his mouth, and though she felt some pity for her best friend: she created some cover for him— ‘So where is he now?’

The room’s whole energy seemed to change as everyone’s attention drew to her, Natasha locked her gaze on the steel compilation of the cool table. It was very different from the war-room, Aunt Peggy had introduced her too— modern and adaptable, this room felt more than cold. The addition of the technological inference arguably made the room more impersonal.

‘Floor Four, we’ve created a make shift—’ began Coulson, before he, like everyone else looked to Bucky.

Bucky had knocked his titanium arm against the table. Natasha felt somewhat guilty she could not conjure a viable reason for her family to have met T’Challa’s family, but Tony, as his first act of kindness and kinship; fashioned Bucky a new arm, emblem free. 

‘No offense, I know we’ve talked about this already since six in the morning. I missed my regular cup of joe, my run and my scheduled shouting match with Romanoff, over here. But I want us to go over this again. No offense, but I’m the only one in this room who knows the man sleeping in that “makeshift” infirmary downstairs.’

‘And what my Aunt Peggy has to say…does that not hold too then?’ called Agent Thirteen.

Natasha looked up over to a set of brown eyes and blonde hair she had borrowed for the morning.

‘Of course, it does… but… she spent the most amount of time with him, after my fall. Its known he said his last words to her, true—’ 

‘So, wouldn’t it be logical, then to use Krista from HR, she looks a lot like the former director, she can evoke a sense of calm, right before we ease him into the fact, he’s been asleep for seventy years, right Simmons?’ Noted Bobbi.

Before the pretty researcher could say anything, Fury cut in: ’Romanoff, opinion?’

Natasha raked a look over the table goers, she was distinctly reminded of the talk that led to the Civil War led by Steve and Tony. 

‘Why do we keep saying he’s been asleep for seventy years; he’s been frozen. What he’ll need is an open ear. Why are we using a woman as bait too? He knows Bucky, plain and end of. In all honesty, let’s give it to him straight. But Coulson if you are so sure, about the plan. I would make these suggestions though: I’d feel better going in place of Krista from HR— I’m sure she not nearly as trained in combat, in case Rogers becomes aggressive. And secondly, from intel gathered as Tony Stark’s personal assistant, Howard Stark too equally knew Captain Rogers… I’m not totally here for the echoes of the past motif you all want to go for. But need be, maybe Stark can help somehow.’

So, she was being selfish, in all honesty she missed her friend, she missed seeing, her time as his personal assistant had been the best fun she’d had since joining S.H.I.E.L.D. she’d seen him a week before for Aunt Peggy’s birthday, Sharon and Bucky laughing at their collective antics. But her reasoning … ‘Makes sense.’ Agreed Sharon and Fury.

‘A brunette, can your hair stand all that chemical damage, or are you going for that cancer survivor look?’ muttered Bobbi. 

‘Barton,’ snapped Natasha, ‘control your woman.’

Clint snorted: ‘Oh come on bab—’

Natasha sent a dagger flying from her thigh clasp Clint’s way.

She turned to Coulson who seemed to gulp: ‘Also bring those trading cards of yours, I’m sure Captain Rogers will love them.’

* * *

‘Dear god, is that a wig?’ asked Bucky arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at the romantic set to her shoulder cut curls, her rogue lined lips, white blouse and pencil skirt.

The oncoming storm of her clapping heels had caused his eyes to stay glued on her voluptuous form. She’d been about to click her fingers in his face— he was a man after all, her best friend sure, but she had curves.

She lost her Russian assassin persona for a split second to offer him a “no duh” expression which caused him to explode with laughter. ‘Brilliant, brilliant, exactly what I needed,’ he said, leading her to the viewing room, he, Fury, Coulson, Sharon and …

‘Mr. Stark, what a surprise, please let’s hope the emission zone didn't break in your rush to save the day, where's the suit hiding? ’

‘Ah Natalie, how I’ve missed that quick tongue of yours.’

He was dressed immaculately in a pin stripped suit and (dear lord) converses.

She wanted to run up to him and wrap her arms around him. But instead, smirked and brushed past him to stand next to Coulson.

‘Let’s hope this plan of yours work… I still think if Bucky sits next to Steve when he wakes up that’d be better …’ but she trailed off.

‘If your degree in psychology works out right Romanoff, then you’re in for a raise,’ gruffed Fury.

Natasha shrugged and murmured: ‘I just know people.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ said Tony and Bobbi.

Natasha was close to retaliating when Krista’s coms sounded in their concealed room: ‘he’s waking up, I repeat movement of the eyelids… he’s waking up.’

* * *

April 15th 2012

New York, New York

Steve

On one hand Steve could count the number of women he’d kissed goodbye. He could count on one hand the number of women he’d told himself to let ago. And recall with clarity his first and last kiss he and Peggy Carter had shared. And though that kiss had been lovely. Much like Peggy, herself, but his mind had drifted even after he'd promised Peggy, her date — to a set of pretty green eyes and the dark hair of a girl who often waited for him on a stoop in his neighbourhood popped into mind, he couldn't be sure if she was just a memory and a desperate wish, but she was the last image he remembered.

Miss Grey-Summers had been a figure he often met at twilight. Something half caught in a hope and his dreams; so, waking up to bright blazing lights invading his retinas, he is attention was arisen. Was this real? — He questioned. He seemed to be lying on a bed white sheets covering him.

He pushed himself further up the bed. A broadcast was playing each word becoming clearer and clearer as he examined his surroundings.

He was in a recovery room— how on earth had he got back here? Didn’t he— 

The door opened and his attention zeroed in on a female wearing a pencil skirt, white blouse, ruby red lipstick and her hair in brown shoulder waves.

‘Good afternoon Captain, glad to see you’re awake. We were worried.’

He studied her like she was a cooking manual his momma was fond of using.

Her nose was too long, her lips were not as full as Peggy Carter's.

‘Where am I?’ he asked.

‘You’re home, Captain.’

She was meant to look like Peggy Carter, she was meant to create a stir in his stomach, he quickly flicked his eyes to the sky… it couldn’t be. The commentary on the Brooklyn Dodgers game…

‘Where am I really?’

Was he going mad or did he hear someone curse?

‘I don’t know what…’

Steve got to his bare feet stretching his bare feet: ‘That game, I was there by the way in 1941, so I’ll ask again— where am I?’

The woman who was meant to look like Peggy, staggered back calling into a black box like thing: ‘Code—’

But she wasn’t given the time of day, a hoard of black Kevlar dressed figures rushed into the room.

Steve acted on instinct, three of the figures went flying through the make shift infirmary as one thought rang in his mind— ‘Bucky!’ he echoed aloud.

Figures leapt out his way, gaping at him, pointing like he was some display object. He’d made it to the first floor when he heard a set of heels chase after him. His brows shot to his hairline when a heel flew an inch past his face. She must have followed him from the third floor he thought, he’d felt her pursuit from near the beginning; he was half inclined to look back and get a good look— the last heel only bounced off his back because he’d been sprinting towards the ground floor.

He spun around as he went to uproot his pursuer. The woman, reacted immediately, she dropped to her knees, and spun to clutch his around the ankles with her brilliant legs. She twisted her feet as he crashed to the floor. Unfortunately for her, she was stronger than her. He broke out of her hold and got to his feet. The woman had too.

She was an impressive attacker, while he cut high, she went low. It felt too early to say, but it felt like she’d studied his fighters’ style. Without the shield, he was not as equipped. Brute force wouldn’t do, as she flipped him over at his charge. His eyes could not leave her, she was fluid as a dancer, he noted, as she offered him a smirk. She seemed as though she was holding something back.

It didn’t stay restrained for long: ‘Not a time for talking I know, I feel like you like what you see.’

He growled.

Her tinkle of laughter was like the echoes of lovely wind chimes. It sounded very familiar. Had he heard it before, from …

She wrapped her thighs around his neck. Heat should have exploded on his checks, this was the closest he’d been to a woman. He flung her off him, guilt tickled his stomach. His mother would roll in her grave if he knew, this was how he’d treated a woman even, the enemy.

‘This is madness! We have to stop! STOP! Bucky’s still alive! Captain Rogers, James Barnes is still alive!’ she said, getting to her feet.

He skidded to a halt. He spun around to properly inspect her. His gaze travelled from the top of her ruffled dark red waves, to her full dark brows, her coquette styled lips, and focused on her eyes: he knew those eyes. He’d spent moments of his time in the barracks trying to remember – “a fine set of eyes” —a line from Miss Grey-Summer’s favourite novel: Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. She’d let it slip once. This woman held a crumpled brown wig in her hand as she breathed hard. She seemed frozen in place, just breathing hard, her chest raising and falling. Her eyes fixed on him, he approached hesitantly almost like a wounded bear cub.

‘How can I trust you?’

She shrugged.

‘I do a really bad German accent, if I was HYDRA, I would have tortured you awake,’ He haltered. He’d expected a jolly New-Yorker’s accent, he expected to hear her. This woman had a thick Russian accent. She frowned for a moment reading his confusion.

‘I know you’re scared and I won’t lie to you, that’s okay,’ she said growing closer and closer. She waved her hand, and he cut a look around the black Kevlar group of soldiers? Guards? Had approached only to falter.

‘I wish I could tell you what is happening. But you don’t even know me. Maybe after everything, after he tells you everything, maybe we could talk then,’ said the red-haired woman as two men stood at her side like some armed guard. One offered him a charming smile, his dark brown eyes crinkled and twinkled back at him— hands tucked in his pockets as he tutted: ‘You hurt one of our favourite agents, Captain Rogers, you’re lucky your boy’s given such good credentials.’

It was like looking at a living ghost: as the copy of Howard Stark shook his head. The man on the pretty red-haired woman’s other side, was a face seared into his memories and nightmares.

Handsome, tall, and arms wrapped over his chest— he said, ‘Hey Punk, nice to see you again,’ said James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. His best bud, his sergeant at arms and his living memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't know how happy I am with the result of this chapter. It sounds dumb to say but I hadn't thought to hard ahead concerning how Steve and Nat would meet -- for real in this new timeline . Sorry,throw your rocks at me. I do miss Nat's family, I miss Jean, Scott , Logan and co. But they'll be back. I must note though Natasha lived in the old timeline: every action has a reaction and with the inclusion of the X-Men ad Fantastic Four in this timeline-- their villains come with them too. This is the beginning of the Avengers movie timeline.
> 
> If you're wondering about Natasha's indecision and fear concerning Steve, I think it's very natural and will be very vital in the chapters to come.
> 
> Please comment ( it's always wonderful to hear what you have to say), kudos, bookmark and subscribe.
> 
> Thank you so much for the continued support!
> 
> Greekgeekable


	7. Betty

Chapter Seven

23rd April 2012

Willowdale, West Virginia

Betty

“I want to know you moved and breathed in the same world with me.” **_\- The Short Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald_**

* * *

Betty had a student who shouldn’t be in her class. It wasn’t to say that the student was lazy and never turned up for classes. She was punctual and diligent. Her shining dark red hair a notable centrepiece in the collection of bent brunette and blond heads.

She was quick enough to answer Betty’s sporadic integrated questions given on occasions to the class— giving Betty access at times to her luminous green eyes. Often best described as wicked and coquettish, was rather wildly jarring when compared to the downturned corners of her mouth.

Though her students sat in a cellular biology lecture they had utilised the spring board of one another to move dangerously towards the realm of the unreal and the unbelievable, in the wake of one student— Drew asking her, about her thoughts regarding Captain America— when she looked to that one student, she was sure she’d been plucked out of one of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novels and decided to study one of the passages.

Funny enough, it was hard to compare her to one of his dangerous female archetypes though, the manner of her crossed legs leaned towards that way of thinking. But she had those eyes Fitzgerald was fond of talking and fancying: the glorious calamity of an unattained situation.

Betty was responsible for teaching a cell biology lecture today, with a room contained of twenty odd engaged students. It was a half blessing Culver university had let her return to work. She’d had half a mind to change name and taken on Lizzy Talbot. But like the General had once said – something she could actually proudly took on board— “We Ross’ have nowhere to hide. We stand, we stare and continue.” Two years prior, it could be argued she’d jeopardised her career— the student blinked, turning her attention to the new speaker in the room, a speaker who was voicing an opinion, thought towards the room, the class and more importantly to her. Betty seemed to reawaken like a faulty android.

‘I’m sorry Drew, could you repeat that?’

She saw the moment the boy fought back an eye roll, but it seemed the excitement of his question overpowered his rudeness.

‘Would we call Captain America a genetically modified mutation of the gene cell or the peak of cell manipulation? If you think about what we know about the guy. He was a regular guy who was someone’s thought experiment who became real. Erskine arguably was a pioneer don’t you think?’ and then he chuckled, and a shiver ran down her back. ‘I mean of course you agree, it’s why you were on the news a few years ago—’

It had been a week since the living wonder had woken up. And he was the talk of the world, her father had idolized him, and she and Bruce had modeled their work around him. Drew, it looked like wanted to catch his tongue and his intrigue, but what some would call scientific interest, she felt a lance pierce her spine.

Betty’s cloudy blue eyes had the ability to look over him, and though she did, it was so much easier to be drawn away back to the past: to the green hulking muscle mass of her… something. Her fingers slowly curled into her palm. A pair of soft brown eyes being displaced under the veil of unbridled rage and anger, to a molten green.

She’d made it a mission in a similar manner, her father the great General Ross, threw out orders to his men to protect the asset that she’d do the same for the one her heart held at the time. She cut her gaze to the floor, blinking furiously. Ordinarily, any woman would have rationalised and argued with themselves to choose one or the other: the green guy or the scientist. And though she’d argued even in 2005, that it was the scientist she was working to save… she felt a pair of eyes, heavy and watchful fall on her. 

Betty’s gaze surpassed Drew’s dotted cheeks to the student at the back, lightly tapping her foot on the floor. The light scuff of her converses didn’t really match her, dark jeans and tank top that brought out the colour of her eyes that much. But who was she to comment, travelling and finally meeting the student’s eyes. Even from this distance, Betty was sure she caught flecks and spotting’s of blue in her eyes.

‘I heard Captain America’s genetics didn’t have much to do with it… him being a great solider I mean—’ spoke up the student each word she had to say escalated as she gained the room’s attention and maintained Betty’s. The student pushed a lock of dark red hair behind her ear. ‘Erskine also, though understandably “made” the red skull isn’t it. I get this is a technical call and everything. But isn’t it said what makes Captain America, America’s first superhero— is his heart, his dedication and candour. Qualities, a test tube subject or a controlled radiated containment unit can’t duplicate.’

Betty made moves to answer the student when the gong sounded for the transition of class shifts. And like always, her head dropped to her desk, and she slowly sat back down on her seat. The pulse of annoyance pushed away. Who was that girl anyway, an opinionated, headstrong…?

‘Rather strong words there Ms. Ross.’

Betty nearly jumped halfway out of her skin.

A tanned hand lay on top of a worn copy of Captain America’s picture, bare of jewelry. Her eyes slammed to the … student. Her wild rose coloured hair curled around her features, and for once her eyes matched her lips: coquettish and amused.

She’d been right to question the woman’s validity: it wasn’t that she was too pretty, or some jealous nuisance had arisen in her. The woman who’d waited for the room to empty, emanated with an air of authority, but it was far more visceral than her father.

‘Ms. Ross, I suppose the direct approach would be the best for you.’ Her voice caused her surprise, a clipped British accent flowed from her lips causing Betty to focus in on her even more.

She was maybe in her mid to late twenties, though she could be argued to look considerably younger. She fumbled with a ring on her right finger and the peak of a chain showed under her t-shirt. A worn tanned leather jacket clutched in her grip, in an easy enough manner, Betty knew what would happen next. She wasn’t exactly subtle.

‘Look Miss, the CIA, FBI or Military are usually a lot better at these things, aren’t they? I’m guessing from your reference in class you want to know where my former colleague— ‘ (lover )she appended in her mind. ‘— is. If he’s kept in contact? I suppose ... you could say I was a memory and a moment in time.’

Betty moved like a florid hurricane collecting papers and jamming them into her bag. Knocking the yellowing newspaper of Captain America to the floor.

She went to pick it up, but the woman reached for it first.

‘I’m not federal. They’re not as ostentatious about their approach.’ Her voice was soft, and Betty for a moment wondered if she was still looking at him, she dropped her gaze to the image on the newspaper. A side by side comparison between a pre-serum Steve Rogers and a serum endued one stared back.

Was it too forward to think, but this woman looked at the picture with a longing, she feared her eyes showcased at times when her guard dropped and the ugly truth of her want showed: a man with big puppy dog brown eyes, a mess of greying brown hair.

The Gamma radiation explosion was an accident, Bruce had been caught in the cross fire. He wasn’t a soldier, he’d been a man transformed into a— a gentle hand rested on top of her own.

The red-haired woman appeared to be wincing as she tried to comfort her.

Betty could have sworn she caught a mutter of: ‘Jesus, think any louder would you.’

She blinked at the strange woman, a moment ago she’d been sure was some government agent.

‘Your talk about genetic mutation was brilliant by the way, by chance, did Professor Charles Xavier have any influence on your assertions?’

The way she spoken wasn’t common to her current speech patchwork, Betty observed. The woman stiffened. It flowed well enough, but Betty was intrigued as per the woman’s wishes.

Despite herself a massive smile exploded on her face. Government agent or not, the woman really was an intellectual seeking another’s response — ‘Yes! I don’t find a lot who have read his works on cellular mutation and genetic advancements. It’s very intriguing I mean it was the basis of my thesis and the source line for both Bruce and I when it came down to — ‘. She cut herself off, blotchy red patches birthed on her cheeks.

The woman showed no reaction.

‘That’s the first time you’ve voluntarily thought about Dr. Banner,’ she murmured. She collected the newspaper, her thumb shifted, almost caressed the dual images of Steve Rogers.

‘I’ll be blunt and honest with you Miss Ross, A) because I’m aware that’s what you appreciate and admire in others. B) you are not, despite your fears, your father’s daughter and finally, for the simple fact I have an international flight to India to catch and booking that extra plane ticket might have been overkill. But with a gut filling I’m banking on, you’d be up for it.’

Betty stared at her rather gob smacked.

Was this woman crazy or... she yelped as a book soared through the air into the woman’s indicative clutch.

Betty’s gaze flew from the bookcase at the back of the room to the woman’s hand.

‘Your Ex-lover can turn into the Incredible Hulk and my little parlour trick is making you question your reality. Typical really... something ridiculous Clint— ‘

Betty roamed the woman again. Professor Xavier in some of the lecture she’d attended, in the works he’d published talked about mutations, yes. But, come on this woman —

‘Believe it sweetie. I’m the real deal.’

So, some of the woman’s odd response hadn’t really been that strange at all. She’d been ... ‘Oh my god, what is it? What do you want with me. My work ... I don’t know how it could possibly help you. Your mutation— ‘

‘is a gift, I’m not going to disagree with you.’ The student finished for her. ‘Besides quoting my mother regarding selflove. I’m quite happy within myself. I’m simply here to ask a favour.’

She was standing in front of a mutant. A genesis of molecular advancements stared back at her with pretty green eyes.

‘Favour?’ She parroted.

The woman thrust a hand towards Betty, a coy smile working its way up the curl of his lip.

‘I’ve heard a lot about you Miss Elizabeth Ross. And I’m hoping on a transatlantic flight lasting nine and a half hours, It would be a perfect opportunity to find out more about myself.’

Betty raised an inquiring brow: ‘And the organisation you work for?’

A bark of laughter left the red-haired woman’s lips.

‘How could he have ever let you go; god he really was a grade A- arse-wipe.’

‘Who...’

‘S.H.I.E.L.D. But this favour I’m about to ask you is more so personal more than anything else.’

‘How personal.’

But the woman ignored her, hand offered — dropping her amicable smile and British accent. ‘I’m Natalia, by the way. Natalia Grey-Summers.’

* * *

April 20th 2012

Washington DC

Natasha

She walked into something solid, and the expected chorus call of gasp signaled in the mess hall. She took a step back, blinking slowly. It had been her own fault, she’d been listening in to both Rumlow and Bobbi. Near identical in their malicious contempt for her — Rumlow’s was rooted in some twisted fetishisation of her arse and legs. She’d been half inclined to break character and flick him off— but thus this was how she’d walked into her perpetrator.

She swung her gaze to meet her victim and was steamrolled by a ‘pair of fine eyes’ she’d once let it slip to Steve, Pride and Prejudice was her favourite novel and very clearly, Jane Austen had been onto something.

Agent Barnes stood next to him, his constant shadow reassuring his physicality in the modern age.

He needed a haircut, her fingers itched to run through his longer than usual locks, the brown winning out when compared to the blond.

His eyes were unabashed and hungry. The sheer viscosity of them near caused her to stumble back. He followed her, perfectly timed as they had been before. The ghost of his fingers almost automatically rested on her arm.

He seemed to realise his too familiar action and snatched his hand back. The lingering sensation of his touch haunting, old memories. His scowl read to the world (the mess room): are you okay. She felt another question asked — have we met before?

His mind was loud enough in its questioning, but his hesitant retreat called to her.

Fuck she swore, not too sure of it had slipped out, because Bucky gave her a dear in the headlights look as he looked between the two.

Maybe a minute, a second or a lifetime had passed but as easy as pie a quip circa 2014 Steve was usually honoured with, slipped out: ‘Easy solider, it’ must be true what they say about you Yankee’s, can’t steer for shit?’

An unbridled bark of laughter escaped Bucky and a few others mouths, but Captain Steve Rogers continued to observe her.

Her Steve circa 2023 would have smirked, laughed too like Bucky. This Steve in this timeline, pursed his lips, brows knitting together before murmuring: ‘Ma’am.’

Heat bull rushed to her cheeks as a small ‘Hey,’ slipped past her mouth. And in that moment, she came to recognise the full magnitude of what she had done. It was more than waking Bucky up thirteen years from his HYDRA induced coma. She had killed herself, submitted to the erosion of a past history, to give everyone: Peter Parker, Wanda and hopefully Morgan a better future.

‘It’s alright by the way,’ she noted, attempting to get a lock on his gaze. ‘Bucky did say you had two left feet.’

Steve smirked at his best friend for a moment — to return back to inspecting her. It was funny she couldn’t get a lock down on his soul while standing in this crowd of people.

‘I don’t dance, I can’t ... I never...’ he trailed off his lie.

They had danced, when she’d been pulled back into his past... when his mom had passed and a hug and the line of: ‘I didn’t want you to be alone,’ was repeated across timelines and alternate realities. She had swayed with him on the spot then, teaching him subconsciously how to dance with her. With her alone.

Was this a test? She wondered, evenly maintaining his gaze.

He wasn’t supposed to have a poker face, when it came to her. She could always read his expressions even when they were getting to know each other in their original timeline.

But this Steve — he must know something. And he wouldn’t let her lock her gaze on him properly to read his soul.

Peggy had given her permission as it was... to be his present-day best girl again, but they were standing in the mess hall, staring each other down without any outward history to back up the building fraught silence between them.

‘Captain Rogers,’ she entertained him with a soft whisper, ‘would you like to have that talk now.’

She didn’t wait for him, she knew him well enough without the help of her powers to know, he’s curiosity would win out in the end.

Bucky knew not to follow, as they stopped at a corridor two turns away from the mess hall.

She was taller now as she leaned against the wall, almost like old times. Signaling to her, once again their behaviour was just a touch inconsistent with two people who’d recently met. But he still towered over her, tall and handsome enough to steal her hidden kiss tucked at the side of her lips. His gaze darted to her lips before saying, ‘Are we going to have our talk now?’

He kept a healthy distance away from her, hands slipped into his jean’s pockets, he wore uncomfortably. Where was the Steve that glowered down at her during their Winter Solider run, ironically, his energy at present emanated with distrust. But in what way had she betrayed him? 

And while her face remained impassive to that emotion she could feel, Natasha was half surprised to find how hurt she felt, several prospects would arrive and build where she’d have to gain his trust again.

She offered him a coy smile. And he immediate scowled at her.

‘What?’ She balked, appalled at his reaction.

His scowl deepened as she retreated back to Natasha Romanoff’s default mode: stoicism.

He took two bold steps towards her, hair flopping into his eyes.

‘What’s your name?’

She blinked up at him surprised.

It teetered on her tongue... not the truth ... the words answered what felt a lifetime ago: ‘“who do you want me to be?”,’

Echoed now and stamped into her existence again. He blinked back in confusion, and was it just hope on her end, but did he know what she was talking about.

He shook his head and took another step, desperate in all his movements. He clutched her shoulders and bored into her eyes searching. This was a Steve who hadn’t experience the hardships of the 21st century yet. He’d been awake for no more than a week and this behaviour was too enigmatic.

‘Please tell me, just your name?’ He breathed, a lover’s caress.

The revered Natasha Romanoff would have twisted and broken his arm and it is exactly what she should be doing. But both they’re beautiful eyes meet, locked onto each other’s and she was able to receive an insight to that soul of his.

‘I don’t know who you may think I am,’ her Russian accent had been pretty fixed before but it dripped from every syllable now. ‘but my name is Natasha Romanoff, I may be good at playing a role .... but I think what or who you’re looking for isn’t standing in front of you.’

Yet and still his eyes shone, when he dropped his arms from her shoulders. Left her of his warmth and stood back.

They eyed each other for one moment longer before she let slip: ‘It was good of us, to have that talk.’

* * *

New Delhi, India

April 24th 2012

Betty

Her companion was distracted — Natalia or Natasha, she’d said she didn’t mind— stared out of the car’s cubical like window. She’d propped her hand up and supporting her cheek in her palm and didn’t nearly blink enough to guarantee active brain activity.

She was more or less frozen .... in a memory, in another time? Leading to their board on the plane and Natalia’s own secured apartment building, Natalia in hushed tones had explained her ‘mutation.’

Even now it was hard to stomach the truth and not to say, her abnormality. It was more so the reality of it. Natalia had freely displayed examples of her mutations by ‘summoning’ two coffee mugs towards the two placing them on the kitchen table. Or how sometimes, she’d answer a question she hasn’t asked out loud.

She must have more powers, but for now Betty had been privy to at least three.

Natalia seemed to wake up from whatever revere she was in and turn doe eyed her way. They were squashed in with very little air, and the sun and heat took little pity on them. But Natasha offered her a slow almost sloppy smile. Like she’d been inebriated for too long.

‘Can I ask a question?’ She said, and Betty knew she wouldn’t like it.

‘Why follow me really, he left you and yet, you’re still looking for him?’

Betty began shaking her head: ‘Not to be instructive myself, but your eyes tell me story. ‘

‘A story as old as time?’

‘Maybe, but clearly far more tragic and older.’

Natasha’s chuckle was not light or wholesome and Betty felt it was best not to note the unclothed love Natasha failed to concealed, it was clearly very dear and romantic directed towards someone. They left the car at the side and began their trek.

They were stumbling (well Betty was) though the New Delhi street, moving to more remote realms.

‘How do you know where to go?’

Natasha looked at her over her shoulder and pointed to Betty’s heart.

‘You let me into your soul, that’s all I need to know.’

Betty pondered on that for a moment.

‘How powerful are you exactly?’

‘Well, I’ve been known to subdue a few Hulks in my lifetime and I didn’t even lift a finger. But you know.’

Natasha was a funny character she’d decided, often a healthy mixture of humour and humility— Betty didn’t always know If everything she said had a grain of truth or was to wind her leg.

‘And you really think bringing me will convince Bruce? To join you, to come home?’

Natasha shrugged

‘I have a plan,’ she said slowing down as a little girl maybe no older the ten or eleven popped out, offering a demure look up at the spy.

Her plan followed through roughly the same way as it did in the original timeline, the little girl serving as a perfect distraction.

‘You know for a man who’s meant to be hiding you picked a hell of place.’ Breathed Natasha coming out of the shadows, her gaze somewhat locked on Bruce, a flick of a gaze back to a hidden Betty.

She watched Natasha slow down and absorbed the man in front of her, they stood with a difference of three inches of height between them, strumming on the same frequency of one another: nervousness.

Bruce was haggard by time and the universe, the hue of his coffee coloured eyes remained beautiful to Betty. He was sizably underweight, and she wished to force feed him, if only as some form of encouragement; of looking after himself better. He must have still felt respectable enough, to straighten his shabby suit jacket as her scanned Natasha.

Natasha, who stood tall under a guise of confidence, and dark hooded eyes. Though her gaze could not be seductive, it was hard for Betty to pin down, but was Natasha using her powers to investigate his soul?

Back in Natasha’s apartment, the spy had explained her reason for recruit the pair again—” Where else can I find experts in Gamma Radiation.’

She’d been considerably forthcoming regarding the truth, then again, Betty was ninety percent sure Natasha had used her powers to pluck on core reactionary pieces to use in any persuasive argument she’d need to engage in.

Bruce took a step back: ‘Avoiding stress isn’t the secret.’

‘And what is it yoga?’

Her eyes always played, but her lips with their glamourising down turned l corners remained the same. Betty who had done her own research on the formidable spy, could see why she’d graduated at the top of her class in the Red Room with looks like those.

And something irrational blossomed in her stomach, Natasha Romanoff was clearly a beautiful woman… could his attention….

‘You brought me to the edge of the city, you’re smart.’

She smirked and said under her breathe: ‘Or just acquainted with someone who knows you very well and besides, you don’t particular do well with other people— something I once thought we had in common,’ she finished under her breathe.

‘I assume you have this whole place surrounded?’

She offered him a non-committed shrug.

‘It’s just you and me…’

‘And her, your actress buddy is she a spy too, do they start them young now?’

Natasha hesitated for a moment.

‘I did.’ Her voice oddly distant.

‘And who are you?’’

She smirked.

‘What’s so funny.’

‘Dualism… but I’m Natasha Romanoff.’

‘Are you here to kill me Miss Romanoff, because that’s not going to help anyone.’

She inched closer, slowly indicating Betty leave her hiding spot.

Bruce was slow to find her in the room, slow to turn and absorb her. He stared at her slack jawed, eyes rooving over her slender frame. It was clear she maintained her health when he left, but he. She reached out for him. Needing to find/make a broth or something to weigh in on his body mass

‘Of course not, I’m here on behalf SHIELD, though I brought a friend too, thought she could help too a little bit,’ said Natasha finishing he conversation with Bruce.

It was almost like being stuck between two dimensions, being able to see the guilt and pain on Bruce’s face being conveyed to her and the annoyance and distrust sent to Natasha.

‘What are you doing here?’ he near but whispered.

Looking for you… hoping you’d come back, she half wished to say, but remembered the purpose of this mission. Why Natasha had been so determined to recruit her.

‘For work Bruce,’ she said flatly. ‘For our country and this world. We’re facing a global catastrophe and if I were you, I’d listen to her. Look just look at my phone.’

But his eyes did not follow as per request, he watched her like she was some second coming of a new ghost to follow him over his shoulder.

He shook his head; more so at the sheer existence of her, just being and invading his viewership

But this seemed too much for Bruce.

‘Why would you bring her here?’ he moaned clutching his tuffs of his hair.

‘Bruce, please focus on me, I came to help you, and him too, Nick Fury, the director of Shield, he said he needs you. Seems to think you can cancel your energies towards something, the Tessa—’

‘But why?’ he explored at Natasha shuffled back and drew her gun towards him.

‘You’ve endangered her! Why would you do that?’

‘Listen, it’s energy could wipe up the planet, Nick Fury thinks you Bruce, can find it? No one’s asking for the big—’

‘What are you talking about?’ he yelled

‘If you would just listen or look at it? This cube is crazy powerful, and it can be like old times again… we could save the day… do some good in the world… you’d be protected from my father—'

But irrationality and rage has won out.

‘You’ve put her in danger!’

‘The tesseract—'

His eyes were molten green.

‘Natasha,’ Betty whispered

But the spy had already sprinted out of the hut.

Bruce sprinted through the door, but the Hulk roared his pursuit of her.

‘Smash!’ his cry echoed back to her.

Betty stood partially surprised at his actions… so he still cared? She thought, following at top speed to follow after the two.

She sprinted as fast as she could racing after the two, distinctly sure, she heard the sound of Natasha’s gleeful chuckle.

Natasha used the bark of a tree to springboard and fly into a back flip. She landed like a cat, causing Betty to screech to a stop.

‘That doesn’t look like anything out of the Red Room,’ Betty hissed.

‘What do you know of the Red Room, Miss Ross… they’re a very ambitious organisation,’ Natasha said conversationally.

‘You’re sounding too confident Miss Romanoff, the Hulk…’

‘is an old friend from work,’ she said pushing Betty out of the way as his fist came driving down on them.

Natasha righted herself near immediately, and made obnoxious kissing noises an unseemly action from such a high-ranking agent in SHEILD as her file suggested.

‘Come here Brucie.’

The Hulk who’d locked his attention on Betty for a moment, returned to his target.

‘You’re insane!’ Betty cried.

‘Thanks, Charles Xavier will be pleased to see his teachings have payed off.’

But Betty came to witness, Natasha did not engage with the giant, did not through a punch antagonising him, she danced with like an engaged ballet partner.

And then she began singing.

A haunting melody that began to even intrigue Betty.

The Hulk began to sit down almost like a sated puppy until Betty moving closer to observe the seen, saw a small figure, the girl Natasha had paid to initially distract Bruce.

She streaked past running towards Betty, drawing the giant’s attention from her song soother.

‘Miss, it’s dangerous, let me get you somewhere safe.’

Betty cursed.

The Hulk pushed past Natasha who, ill prepared, was flung into a tree. The loud smashing sound sickening to hear.

Betty curled the girl closer to her frame.

The Hulk came steamrolling towards her and she looked back at him with searching eyes. She could not build herself up to be frightened. It was Bruce really at the end of day, the green guy and the scientist were one in the same.

The giant raised his fist ready to strike when a turquoise wave of energy hit his chest and he flew back. Betty whipped around to see ... a creature that looked an awful lot like Natasha. She seemed to be encased in warm green flames and even her eyes were not of this world, the lick of a soft golden flames emanated from her. She dropped an imperious hand, watching the Hulk grunt to his feet and pinpoint her.

She offered him a smirk and these words: ‘Hulk smash?’

He roared and she roared with laughter as she sprinted, no, flew past Betty. Leaving a trail of green embers behind her.

She fly kicked him in the face, and for such a tiny woman, she was incredibly strong as he crash to the floor.

‘Continue to look at me with those confused eyes Bruce. I do need the distraction ,’ she said raising her hand like a scalpel.

‘Also, kid, next time I say amscray, do as I say, not what I do,’ a distinct Brooklyn accent seeping through.

She cocked her head to the side like an inquiry Robin, asking the Hulk a question, Betty wasn’t privy to.

In the next second it was answered as Natasha cradled the monster’s face in her delicate hold, the same melodic tune whispered past her lips. 

The Hulk stopped struggling and squirming too. She locked gazes with him and slowly began to retreat.

It seemed impossible to explain but in tune with her melodic call, she drew back something seemed to follow her lead. A seemingly corporal figure that became more solid as Natasha plopped herself onto the muddy ground and shuffled back.

Robert Bruce Banner towered over Natasha, as naked as the day he was born blinking down at the pretty red head. Who scrambled to her feet and dragged him by the arm and threw, no flung him into the dazzled ‘big guy.’

‘Better,’ she said more to herself than anyone else.

Bruce jumped up from his lying position, his confused gaze becoming more aware when he saw the pretty red.

‘How’d you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Calm, the big guy. Put me in control. He’s not even... not even trying to break out.’ He said looking around wildly.

She smirked at him ‘Haven’t you ever heard— red hair and freckles, I’m a Weasley,’

Bruce’s head jerked to his right and locked on Elizabeth Ross.

‘Betty,’ and he said her name the way all girls wished to hear like some secret wish.

Something like a crescendo bloomed in her stomach and she was ready to absorb all of him on this filthy road.

But their attention seemed drawn to Natasha. ‘Why is she on fire ... is that like a thing.’

Natasha smirk seems close to demonic. ‘Genetic default.’ Then slowly the green embers fluttered from her body. ‘but honestly, my appearance will never be more distracting that yours Mr. Banner. But I must admit, this isn’t really a social call. And ask you keep what you saw me do a secret. But I do have another favour to ask you.’

Bruce looked to Betty, his gaze asking a fond question: “Do you trust her?”

Betty with weighty eyes turned to Natasha. This woman had read her soul, given her something she’d craved and wanted — a sight of her beautiful mother.

Natasha crouched down on the floor, thoughtful and curled in on herself in a manner that’d be hard to decide if she was clothed or not in her normal form.

Glittering green eyes with heady blue flecks met Betty’s clear blue eyes: ‘Yes.’

‘Will it protect Betty? Is she in trouble?’

Natasha shook her head. ‘Not directly. But even if your country didn’t need you .... Captain America does.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello!! I’m not dead or anything, I just wanted to figure out how I was going to integrate important characters into timeline. I know there wasn’t a lot of Romanogers, and in the next chapter this will be addressed fully. And I think it will be very intriguing to explore. So, Betty Ross has entered the chat. Sorry, I just never like the Bruce/ Natasha storyline, without the inclusion of Betty. Hello, Betty is Bruce’s lobster.
> 
> I miss the X-men guys, I couldn’t really integrate them into this chapter. The movement in this chapter in thematically important especially with the idea of identity in the Marvel universe.
> 
> Also, I think Natasha is missing her childhood friend, because her Tony Stark was showing.
> 
> Oh and btw Betty is portrayed by the Liz Tyler persona.
> 
> Please comment, kudos subscribe and bookmark.  
Enjoy this chapter please.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Greekgeekable

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> So I wasn't to to happy about Endgame. I won't talk about Steve's arc because if I did , I would provide a dissertation.
> 
> I've been trying to find a piece of work to work on and release my angst.
> 
> So I guess this is my What if series — solely Natasha oriented : if the soul stone’s sentience can show compassion ?
> 
> This is a Romanoger's love story, with the inclusion of the X-Men because , why not!
> 
> I will explain some new relation links too the further we get into the narrative.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Thanks
> 
> Greekgeekable.


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